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ohbungeegum · 3 years

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Oneshot- Derek Hale

Derek Hale x reader fluff

This is extremely fluffy, I nearly puked sorry :)

(A little bit oc like but who cares :)

You and Derek have a nice Day together.

The bright morning light shone through the huge windows in the loft, waking you up softly.

You felt light breathing on your head making you you flutter your eyes oben to see you were cuddled into Dereks naked chest as he had his arms wrapped around you securely. You were clothed in Dereks T-Shirt and a pair of underwear which Derek was wearing too, speaking of lower part of the body, your legs were completely entangled in his, your leg between his and his leg draped around yours.

You enjoyed his soft breathing on your hair making little strands blow away.

You felt your nose was icy cold due to it being winter so you nuzzled more into his chest and warmed you up more, which must have woken him up a bit.

You felt him kiss the top of your head.

,,Good Morning.“

he said with a sexy morning voice.

,,Morning.“ you tried to say but it came out as a ‚mmnng‘ as your lips were muffled with his chest.

,,You’re cold“

,,mhm“

He wrapped his arms around you tightly and rolled you so you were on top of him with him lying on his back, he spread his legs so you’d be comfortable between them, which you totally were.

He pulled the blanket more up so it covered your shoulders, nearly reaching your nose as it only covered half of his chest.

You layed there for at least half an hour with him playing with your hair until your tummy decided to be hungry and ruining the beautiful position, he chuckled:

,,hungry?“

,,no“ You said not wanting to move.

He huffed in amusement, gave you a kiss on the head and sat up with you on his lap, your head on his neck. He then wrapped your legs around his waist and stood up, his hands hold your butt so you don’t Fall, which he loved. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hung your head under his chin, still tired af.

He tried getting you to sit on the stool in the kitchen but you just held on tighter, so he gave up, making you both a sandwich while your still clinging on him like a monkey.

As soon as he was done you jumped off and swooped the plate away, he smiled and joined you on the couch watching Rick&Morty on your new flatscreen TV. The last two months were spent with you decorating the Loft to look more comfortable, Derek loved it and helped you out, even the pack went out of their way to help.

Anyway, you were sat there with a sandwich, Derek knew you were still cold so he took the fluffy blanket and wrapped you both in it.

Once you both were done Derek got some strawberries and ate them with you, then he layed down with his head on your lap, head faced upwards so he could see you grinning down at him ,,what?” He asked smiling at your dopey grin, ,,oh, just that bit of strawberry on your mouth.” You said. He tried licking it away but you couldn’t stop laughing ,,now you really look like a dog.”

He rolled his eyes and went to wipe it off with his hand but you stopped him, gripped his hand, bent down and licked away the bit of strawberry on the upper lip, you went to go back up but Derek cought you in a soft and gentle kiss, resting his now released hands on either side of your face as he caressed your cheek up to to the back of your ear.

Derek broke the kiss for air, you kissed the tip of his nose like he did with you earlier and leans back on your lap.

Derek was never really cuddly with other people around, he kinda has this badass reputation going on but never when he’s with you, he would always make sure your okay, and never leave without a kiss and a ‚i love you‘, which you absolutely adored.

There was comfortable silence of you two watching TV, enjoying each other’s company.

Derek broke the silence: ,,What do you wanna do today?“.

You turned the volume of the TV down so you could hear him better.

,,Hm, let me think about it.“

You thought while caressing Dereks hair, it was very soft, but a still a certain roughness in it.

,,What about a date?” Derek asked as he turned to look at you.

,,Ouh we haven’t had one of those in a while!“ you said excitedly.

He smiled, got up and said:,, 8 o’clock here, wear something warm and comfortable, I’ll organize the rest.” Then he walked off to who knows where.

You were happy to be spending more time with him.

You stood up and started preparing for things not knowing what to bring.

[ 9 hours later]

(In that time you went shopping with Lydia and got some dinner with her, she’s kinda your bestie to go)

You sat on the couch, grey wool jumper, black jeans and a black coat, waiting for your Prince Charming.

Finally a knock was heard from the loft door. You opened it to see Derek in also a gray hoodie and black jeans.

He smiled as he saw you ,,You manage to look perfect In anything” he said as he intertwined his hand In yours, starting to lead you down the loft. You blushed, kissed his cheek ,,well good thing we’re matching, I guess we both were going for perfect.” You said smoothly, he chuckled and led you to his beautiful camaro.

As Derek drove through the streets he intertwined his right hand with your left hand, keeping them on the gear and one hand on the wheel. The radio played a familiar tune as you slightly bounced your leg to the song.

The car ride was silent, not bad silence but peaceful silence.

You were now in a parking lot in the woods. The moonlight shone perfectly around the trees and leaves.

Derek got out of the car and went to open your door before you could. He smirked while you rolled your eyes and laughed ,,always the gentleman.“

,,always“ he replied with a smile while taking your hand once again in his, leading you to the trunk of the car.

,,Is this the scene where the loving maniacal boyfriend kills the girlfriend in cold blood and drags her body in a hole he digged? That would explain why you were preparing for so long.” You gasped loudly for dramatic flaire.

,,The boyfriend might, if he’s tempted enough by his equally loving maniacal girlfriend.“ he sassed back, quirking an eyebrow, tilting his head and looking deep into your eyes. It was a look he often did, kind of his trademark look.

You both chuckled as he resumed taking the stuff out of the trunk.

You couldn’t really guess what you both were going to do because he his the stuff in two black duffel bags, you took one duffel bag and he took the other, he didn’t bother to argue because he knew you would rather stubbornly take the bag than give both to him since he’s more than capable of taking them.

After a little walk in the woods he led you to a clearing right by a lake.

It was beautiful, there was plenty of room to sit on, the Moon reflecting elegantly against the water.

While you were gushing about the prettiness of this place you didn’t seem to notice your boyfriend building up a little tent, there even was a picnic blanket on the floor, a basket and some lights around it.

When Derek was finished building up the tent you walked up to him and threw yourself on him in a big hug throwing him in the blanket with you, he laughed and kissed your cheek.

,,This is the best Derek! Like WOW! I love you so much.” You said while peppering kisses all over his face.

,,Aw I love you so much too, you big softie.” He said with a big smirk.

,,oh shut up I was trying to be nice so fuck off, you did great.” You said getting off and sitting next to him. He laughed ,,There she is.“ .

He brought out the basket and got some bread sticks out, some wine and some fruit. We started talking and eating throughout the night.

He suddenly stood up and held his hand out. You reluctantly took it as you didn’t know what his devious mind was up to.

,,Take your clothes off”

You raised your eyebrows, not understanding what he was up to. He got out a pair of swimming trunks for him and put them on. Normally you’d be uncomfortable undressing in front of a boyfriend because you were insecure, honestly though, who isn’t? Derek knew that and always reassured you that you were the most beautiful woman on earth, that’s why Derek isn’t just any boyfriend, you felt very comfortable in your own skin around him.

,,So you knew we would go swimming but decided against packing my swimsuit?” You asked, eyebrows still raised.

,,Well I thought it would be nicer in underwear?” He said smirking.

,,For whom?”

He chuckled and walked over to you, kissing you.

He pulled your sweater up while you kissed and undid your jeans. You pulled back, stepping out of your jeans.

He led you to the water, picked you up and threw you into the icy cold water.

You gasped as you resurfaced, seeing Derek laughing as you were flailing your arms around. You tried pulling him in but it didn’t work, you splashed him a couple of times. This continued a few times, you trying to get out but that resulted in you being tossed into the water again, again and again. Soon You began to shiver, so he went in the water and held you close. You rested your head on his neck as he did the same, playing with you hair.

You sat there for a bit before you started to shiver again. He held you tight and walked out of the water with you still on him. He layed out two towels as sat you both on them. He even brought a heater!? There was a power supply in the ground, bc this place was made for camping, it was shut down but the power weirdly still works, I suspect Derek bought the property. He said he used to come here for peace and quiet, when he needed to get away. We layed on the towels and wrapped in lots of blankets, stargazing, talking, joking and remeniscing o about the past.

,,You know I love you?“ he said suddenly getting serious and staring into my eyes as he held both my hands.

,,Of course! I love you too.” You smiled and stared back into his eyes.

,,No, you don’t know how much I love you.

Every day I wake up in the morning and see your beautiful face. Every time I see you I just want to hold you and never let go. I don’t want anything bad to happen to you so I try to be with you every day. I want to protect you forever, I never want to imagine letting go of you, never!

So I’m asking you this [Y/N] [L/N], will you marry me?”

He asked as he pulled out a little box, a beautiful ring with a diamond and the Hale Triskelion on It. To say it was gorgeous was an understatement.

You had tears in your eyes. Frantically nodding and breathing out multiple ,Yes’s before you kissed him passionately.

He was had the biggest smile while you kissed, his hands on you waist as you were now between his legs.

The night went on about you both talking about the future, making plans and what not. Derek wanted kids, a lot he said, you didn’t expect that since you never really saw him as a kids person but you can definitely see why, his own little pack.

You wanted to get married with all your closest friends, even Peter should be there.

You wanted to spend the rest of your life with this man. YOUR man.

When you both realized the excitement and the thought of being husband and wife settled in you could feel the temperature of you shared blanket space increase.

You decided to go to the tent since thing were getting a little steamy.

Oh what a wonderful night.

A/N: If you want me to make a continuation of it just tell me :)

2,113 words

#derek hale imagine #derek hale smut #hot guy #teen wolf #peter hale #gif #tyler hoechlin #werewolf #werewolves #human reader #x reader #fluff #derek hale fluff

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xxdragonwriterxx · 4 years

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🔥The Angelus Mortis (2/2)🔥

A/N: Here is part 2 of “The Angelus Mortis”! Part 1 is linked below if you haven’t read that part yet. Thank you for reading!

Part 1

~~~

The next day, Erwin woke up early to visit (Y/N) one last time before he had to hand her over to the MP’s. He sighed in disappointment. He thought he had been getting through to her, especially after she had given him her name, but he was left with nothing but false hope when she remained adamant about not answering any of his questions. He ran one of his large hands through his blonde locks in frustration as he made his way down the stone steps into the gloomy dungeon below.

He had no idea why he felt so conflicted when it came to this woman, why he had a feeling she was a better person than she was letting on. His heart battled with his brain as he walked, causing him to groan when he felt a headache begin to form. Why did he feel like he was missing something? Something important? He knew she would be a valuable asset to the Survey Corps if she cooperated, her strength rivaling that of Levi’s which would give them two vital weapons on the field. And he was sure that under Levi’s supervision she would flourish, maybe even develop a friendship with the sullen man. Maybe that’s why he felt so strange, because it was a missed opportunity?

Erwin shook his head as he finally rounded the corner, pushing away his inner turmoil to mull over on a later date. Immediately upon his arrival, (Y/N) rolled over on the small, filthy cot she had been provided, and met his gaze.

“Here to collect me, already?” (Y/N) asked, her disdain barely veiled by her attempt at a quip.

“No, not yet,” Erwin said as he sat down in the lone metal chair he had used the day before.

(Y/N) sat up slowly and crossed her legs, resting her hands in her lap as she turned to face him completely.

“Then what are you doing here?”

“Well, you have spent one whole day here and you’ve been alone for most of that time. I came down here to see if you’re ready to answer my questions now.”

(Y/N) grit her teeth. “I told you, I don’t want to answer any of your shitty questions.”

“What’s the point? You’re going to be heading right for your very painful death in just a few hours, what is keeping you from parting with some information that will likely be unimportant soon anyway?”

“Just because I’m dying doesn’t mean I have to justify my life, to you of all people.”

“I only want to help you, this could save your life.”

“Why the hell do you care so much about me anyway? What am I to you? Do you want me for something? Maybe for your own personal desires?” (Y/N) suddenly bristled. “I didn’t take you as someone who would stoop so low, Commander, but what did I expect? I guess that’s what I get for thinking a murderer could show empathy. And to think, I almost learned to trust you a little.”

Erwin blanched, his face paling and his eyes widening.

“What?” He asked in utter shock. A murderer? What the hell was she going on about?

(Y/N) seethed at him and turned away, her entire body tensed and angry.

“Do whatever the hell you want with me,” (Y/N) said in a low voice. “Beat me, kill me, fuck me, do whatever you want, but I’ll never tell you anything.”

Erwin was quiet for a minute as he fought to process what he had just heard. A killer? Him? He only killed when he really needed to, aside from when he was fighting titans, of course, but he rarely used his weapons on a person, and never with malicious intent.

“What makes you think I’m a murderer?” Erwin asked.

(Y/N) suddenly whirled on him, her teeth bared, showing more of the wolf inside her that she had developed in the Underground. Her eyes flashed with fury and her fists clenched at her sides as she lost control.

“How dare you ask me that question,” (Y/N) snarled. “How dare you after what you took from me? Do you not even remember? Were they really that meaningless to you? You took away my family, the only positive thing I had in this world. You ripped them from me and now you dare ask how you have wronged?”

Erwin was bewildered now but he tried not to let it show on his face. He had to tread carefully. If he didn’t say the right thing, she might end up shutting down completely, and then he would lose any chance of keeping her from getting killed. He also wanted to keep her from hating him. If she was going to join the Corps, he would have to be able to lead his men without fearing for his life every time she was around.

“Did… did they live in the Underground with you?” Erwin asked carefully.

(Y/N) plopped down on her bed, rage still coursing through her veins as she looked at the man she had loathed ever since the fateful day her family had disappeared from her life, but she felt too tired to argue with him. He had won anyway, she was going to be tortured, maybe violated, killed, and then dumped in a trash can somewhere, left to die alone and forgotten. There was no point in trying to fight him anymore, not when he held the strings attached to her back, commanding the show and forcing her to dance. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing her break, but she knew her fate was sealed the moment she was brought up from the Underground. “Yes,” she said in a small voice, her head hanging low so that her hair covered her eyes.

“Are they the reason why you asked for my name in the Underground? Why you hesitated when you saw my face?”

(Y/N) only nodded.

“Are they why you targeted soldiers? To make us feel the pain you did when you found out they were gone?”

(Y/N) nodded again, more slowly this time and with a single glimmering tear that slid down her cheek and hit the stone floor with a barely audible tap.

Erwin hesitated again and swallowed hard.

“I’m sorry… for your loss.”

(Y/N) scoffed at him, her eyes filled with a smouldering hatred as she met his gaze.

Erwin cringed a little. He knew how apathetic that apology must have sounded, but he was at a loss for words. He just had to keep trying.

“I mean it. If I am responsible for their deaths then it must mean they died in combat, under my command. So, I am sorry for not being able to lead them properly. For not being able to protect them and bring them back home to you. I am so sorry…”

(Y/N) didn’t respond but he did notice that her gaze softened just slightly at his apology. He was starting to get through to her again. He knew that her acceptance of his apology was just a chink in the protective walls surrounding her broken heart, but he would take whatever he could get.

That was when Erwin suddenly realized something, the image of two faces flashing in his mind as he thought about what she had said. There had only been three people he had ever brought up from the Underground to be in the Survey Corps, and only two of them were dead. Farlan and Isabel.

Thinking back on it, Levi had never mentioned anyone other than Isabel and Farlan, and when he had been busted and brought to the surface he had only come with his two friends. Maybe they had never met. Maybe (Y/N) only knew Farlan and Isabel from her childhood and early adulthood while Levi was a mere business partner. Or maybe they did know each other but only through brief business interactions.

His heart jumped a little in his chest when he realized he was on to something. Maybe he could show her to Levi and see what his reaction would be? See if he would be the key to having her cooperate? Besides, it might be good for them, the both of them having lost their two best friends in a horrific manner, giving them the chance to form a bond or close friendship. It might even give Levi some closure. Erwin would be a bad friend if he hadn’t noticed how the loss of Levi’s past friends were still affecting him.

“How… how did they die?”

(Y/N)’s sudden question surprised him but he quickly brought himself back to the moment, not wanting to scare her away from talking to him again. He honestly couldn’t believe this was the same woman who had been bantering back and forth with him the day before, but he now realized she had been using it as a means of protecting herself. To make herself seem more confident in the face of the one person she supposedly hated the most. She had entertained him so he would stop digging, stop trying to dredge up old, painful memories.

“We were on an expedition outside of the walls and it started to storm. We tried to retreat but the rain and open meadows made it difficult to find our way back. Everything looked the same, blurry and gray or green. In the confusion, an abnormal titan snuck up on us and killed the majority of our troops, your family among them.”

(Y/N) was quiet but met his gaze again, her eyes shining with unshed tears. She looked so vulnerable at that moment. He could tell she still had that fighting spirit, that unwavering strength; the vulnerability did not make her look weak or pitiable in the slightest. It just made her look more… human.

“What happened to the titan?” She asked.

“One of my Captains, Levi, took care of it.”

(Y/N)’s head suddenly jolted up, her entire body going rigid. “Wha-”

“Erwin!” The Commander turned around to see Hanji standing on the stone steps leading down to the dungeon, clutching a lantern in one hand and a pair of handcuffs in the other.

Erwin stood and met his girlfriend on the steps, taking the manacles from her. Hanji gazed at him for a minute before her gaze shifted to the woman in the cell. Erwin could tell right away that Hanji felt something similar about the mysterious assassin, that she had the strange feeling that there was something more to her like he did. He could see it in her eyes, in the way they shone even in the darkness of the dungeon.

“Time to go,” Hanji said softly.

Erwin nodded and made his way to the cell, Hanji following close behind with a sword in her grasp, ready to cut the woman down should she try anything.

When Erwin moved to stand behind her, leaning down to lock her wrists into the handcuffs, (Y/N) hung her head again, her mind still spinning with the name that had fallen from the Commander’s lips.

It was a name she hadn’t heard in years, a name that still haunted her dreams and left her feeling cold and alone. There was no way it was really him. Levi was a common enough name that the Captain could be anyone. Despite this, the fact that there was a chance he was really out there, gave (Y/N) peace of mind.

If he was dead, then she guessed she was going to see him soon, maybe finally live the life they wanted to, if that was even possible after death. If he was alive, then that would still be satisfactory enough for her. Either way, she hoped she’d get to see him again soon. Maybe death wouldn’t be so bad.

“Commander Erwin,” (Y/N) said.

“Yes?” Erwin said, trying to hide the surprise in his voice when she said his real name rather than mocking his title of Commander or calling him an idiot.

“How is your shoulder?”

Erwin was baffled but answered her honestly.

“Sore but healing well.”

“Good. I’m sorry I stabbed you.”

Erwin swallowed and shook his head to tell her it was alright, his throat refusing to let him speak. Hanji was watching the Angelus Mortis carefully, her eyes filled with confused sorrow. (Y/N) glanced at the bespeckled Squad Leader and nodded once, a tiny smile curving at the corners of her lips.

(Y/N) could do nothing but sit still as they finished clamping her hands behind her back and stood her up, leading her out of the cell and up the stairs to her inevitable death.

_____________________________

Levi strode through the halls, looking for Erwin. He had been told immediately upon his arrival that the Commander had managed to capture a dangerous assassin from the Underground and needed his assistance in transporting them to the Military Police base to be detained and sentenced to death. He had been a bit surprised with the news, he hadn’t known that Erwin was hunting for a killer from the slums, but he had been out for an entire week on that solo mission, so things were bound to happen without his knowledge while he was gone.

Levi only paused by his office to switch out the sword he had for a cleaner, sharper one. The blade he had carried previously was covered in filth and worn from the constant fights he had been forced to break up on his mission.

As soon as he had a better weapon, he set off for the dungeons where Erwin and Hanji were supposedly already bringing the criminal up the stairs. He hadn’t heard much about this assassin, all he knew was that they were exceedingly dangerous, known as the Angelus Mortis, and they were headed for death row. He gripped his sword a bit tighter as he walked, readying his mind to prepare for anything. A criminal this dangerous would be incredibly strong and while he had no doubt in his mind that he could defeat the bastard, he would rather get out of the fight with all of his limbs attached.

“Levi! Over here!”

Levi looked up as he approached the dungeon steps, his silver eyes flickering over to the prisoner in Hanji’s and Erwin’s grasp. His eyes widened a little when he realized the assassin was a woman, her filthy (h/c) hair covering her face as she hung her head.

“Oi, who are you? What’s your name?” Levi asked coldly, his eyes narrowing on her thin form.

He expected her to keep her head down despite his commanding tone. He knew criminals like this, you could yell at them all you wanted, demand things from them, even beat them and they would usually remain stubbornly silent.

What he did not expect was for her to lift her head sharply, the sound of his voice triggering something in her.

Levi gasped audibly when her (e/c) eyes met his silver ones, his entire world shifting beneath his feet. Her whole body froze when she saw him. For a moment, nobody breathed, Levi’s eyes roving over her constantly as he tried to wrap his mind around what he was seeing.

(Y/N). That was (Y/N). His (Y/N).

The one who had given him so much love and appreciation every day despite their shitty lives in the slums. The one who had comforted him when the world felt too dark; the one who loved him when he couldn’t love himself; the one who patched him up after a fight and fought by his side when she could. It was (Y/N). Undoubtedly (Y/N).

“Levi? What’s the matter?” Hanji asked.

Levi suddenly remembered the reality of their situation. (Y/N) was the goddamn Angelus Mortis. The most dangerous assassin in the world was the love of his life, and she was being sentenced to death.

“Let her go,” Levi said, his voice low.

“What? But Levi-”

“I said let her go!” Levi barked.

Hanji and Erwin exchanged concerned glances but slowly moved to unlock the handcuffs holding her to them.

As soon as she was free, (Y/N) sprinted forward and crashed into Levi, her small frame hitting him like a bullet.

“LEVI!!!” (Y/N) cried in a strangled voice.

Levi grunted a little at the impact but wasted no time in wrapping his arms around her waist, completely forgetting about the audience that watched them, their mouths dropped open in shock. Hanji and Erwin were no better, their eyes wide.

“Oh my fucking gods, it’s you, it’s really you,” (Y/N) whispered in awe, her arms tightening around him, holding each other in the middle of the hallway.

Levi was about to speak when he looked up and noticed that everyone was staring. Sending a glare in the direction of their audience that promised a painful death to anyone who spoke, Levi reluctantly pulled away from (Y/N) and grabbed her wrist, tugging her along behind him as he made for his office.

“Wait, Levi!”

“Levi! What the hell!?”

Levi heard Erwin and Hanji call out to him but he ignored them, making a beeline for the familiar wooden door to his quarters. He could hear the pounding footsteps of the Commander and the crazy scientist coming up behind him, but he did not stop or slow down, his eyes trained on his destination.

When they had finally reached his office, Levi pulled (Y/N) inside and begrudgingly let Erwin and Hanji join them before slamming the door shut and locking it. (Y/N) barely had enough time to glance around the space before he was on her again, this time sealing their lips in a searing kiss that stole the air from her lungs.

Erwin’s and Hanji’s jaws dropped at the sight of Humanity’s Strongest Soldier kissing the Angelus Mortis without a care in the world. Neither one of them had ever known Levi to be interested in love, the sullen man even going so far as to get angry at the mention of it, rolling his eyes when couples kissed in the hallways and gagging when Hanji tried to set him up with someone.

Levi pulled away from the kiss, panting, before he moved his lips to place desperate butterfly kisses all over her face and neck, his body humming at the feeling of her against him for the first time in years.

When they finally broke apart again, both of them ignoring the company they had in the office with them, they stared at each other, their eyes shining as they took the sight of their lost lover. (Y/N) reached up and gently cupped his cheek with her palm, her heart nearly exploding when he nuzzled into her touch, his eyes closing and his own hand coming up to cover her own.

“Gods, I missed you so fucking much,” Levi murmured.

“Me too Levi, I missed you so much, I don’t even have the words to express it.”

“I thought I lost you…,” Levi choked out, a single tear sliding down his cheek to hit her thumb where her hand was still holding his face.

“I thought I lost you,” (Y/N) whispered, her thumb moving to swipe the tear off of his skin. “I was told when I asked around that you were killed in combat with Farlan and Isabel, after being forced to join the military.”

Levi’s eyes opened, his silver hues glassy with unshed tears.

“I tried to get you. Tried to come back for you. But when I got to the Underground, everyone near our old place told me you had been brutally murdered. I even found the inside of our house to be destroyed with blood splattered on the floor.”

Levi’s body began to tremble as he relived the horrendous memory. The time when he thought all hope was lost, all life was meaningless, and that he was destined to be alone. When he had collapsed upon the filthy floor of their old ramshackle home, the blood soaking into his pants and sliding over his palms, he had wanted nothing more than to die. Almost did, until he managed to remind himself that she would’ve never wanted that for him. That she would’ve killed him if he decided to end his life. And so he had hardened his heart and left the scene, making that promise to himself right then and there that he would never love another woman ever again. He would live, for her sake, but he would never love, for his sake.

(Y/N) glanced away from him then, her hand dropping from his face to twist nervously in front of her, her knuckles turning white from the pressure.

“Yeah, well, when I thought you were dead, I knew there was no hope for me left. I was in agony, but I was also furious. Beyond furious at both the Military Police and the Survey Corps for taking you and Isabel and Farlan away from me. Aside from that though, I was also scared. Scared they would find out about our relationship and come looking for me. I knew I had to get out of there, I refused to work for the murderers who had taken away my one happiness in this life. So I trained myself, starting by faking my own death to become untraceable. Then I became stronger, faster. I killed both to remain free and to make them feel the pain I felt when you were ripped away from me.”

Levi’s eyes softened and he reached for her, bringing her into his chest and holding her tightly, his fingers tangling in her hair. Oh gods she was skin and bones, he could feel how malnourished she was through his shirt, her ribs poking him in the chest as he held her.

Suddenly, the Commander’s sharp voice broke the spell in the room, making both Levi and (Y/N) jump a little when he spoke.

“Sorry to interrupt, but what the fuck is going on here?” Erwin asked.

Levi and (Y/N) pulled out of their embrace but Levi kept an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders, holding her close to him as if she’d disappear if he let go.

“Sorry, Erwin, Hanji,” Levi said, looking at each of his friends in turn. “I’d like for you to properly meet (Y/N) Ackerman, my wife.”

If Erwin and Hanji thought they were shocked before, nothing could have prepared them for the bombshell that just landed on them. Both of their mouths fell open so they were gaping like fish, their words caught in their throats.

“YOUR WIFE!?” Hanji suddenly screeched, her eyes sparkling with shock and wonder.

(Y/N) couldn’t help but smile and nod, her expression making the room feel several degrees warmer.

“But, Levi, you’ve never worn a ring!” Erwin pointed out, his mind scrambling for any kind of clues that he had missed that would’ve told him sooner that Levi was married. He came up empty. He knew for a fact that Levi never wore a ring on his hand, knew that if he had, Hanji would’ve never stopped asking him about it.

Levi then flashed a small smile of his own, and reached up to remove the cravat from around his neck. As soon as the pristine white fabric had fallen away, Erwin and Hanji were both able to see the silver chain that was clasped around his neck, a simple gold band hanging from the center.

(Y/N) reached up with her own hands to move the flaps of the old jacket she was wearing, the same silver chain with a gold ring on the end of it sitting against her sternum.

Erwin and Hanji just stood and stared in complete and utter shock for a moment, before Hanji suddenly let out a loud squeal, her eyes shining behind her glasses as she ran right up to (Y/N). Levi stuck an arm out as the energetic woman came running up to them.

“Oi, Four-Eyes, don’t go harassing her.”

“Levi, this is your wife! I can’t not come and say hello!” Hanji said incredulously, pushing his arm away and ignoring his scowl as she bounded around (Y/N) excitedly. “Oh my gods you are so pretty! No wonder Shorty likes you!”

(Y/N) blushed at the comment and sheepishly ducked her head down a little but she was smiling brightly, her fingers moving to gently run down Levi’s arm, telling him she was alright even with this wildly energetic woman in her face.

“T-Thank you,” (Y/N) said. “Are you a friend of Levi’s?”

The scientist nodded excitedly and stuck out her hand for (Y/N) to shake. “The name’s Hanji.”

(Y/N) shook her hand and tried to force the blush from her cheeks as Hanji continued to fawn over her.

“Levi, how come you never told us you were married?” Erwin asked while his girlfriend continued to blubber away, cooing over (Y/N)’s features and already beginning to set up a meal plan to help her get strong again.

Levi leveled a gaze at his Commander and one of the few people he called his friend. It was hard to tell what the giant blonde was thinking. He obviously knew Hanji’s opinion on everything, but Erwin’s sharp blue eyes remained unreadable but no less intense as they settled on the shorter man, waiting for a response. Levi naturally drifted almost imperceptibly closer to (Y/N) before speaking.

“I thought she was dead, Erwin. I’ve thought that ever since I went back to try to bring her up with me and found that scene at the house. Not only would telling you have been pointless, but also, it hurt too much to talk about her. I never took off my ring, I always wear it under my cravat, but I could never bring her up in conversation, not without feeling like my heart was being ripped out,” Levi said quietly, his voice a low rumble and his cheeks tinted with the palest pink as he admitted his feelings aloud.

Erwin contemplated his Captain’s words, his eyes narrowed on the sharp grey ones that stared right back. After a moment, Erwin could tell there was no deception in his friend’s gaze, nothing to suggest he hadn’t told them about (Y/N) for some unorthodox reason. The Commander nodded once, and he could’ve sworn Levi let out the softest sigh of relief. Hanji’s head suddenly shot up from where she had been examining (Y/N) for injuries.

“So that’s why you never accepted any of the women I tried to set you up with!” She said. “You were always so bothered by it, always so angry, now I know why!”

“Yeah,” Levi grumbled as he glared at the scientist. “Even when I thought she was dead, I just couldn’t love another…”

Hanji stared at him for a moment before her eyes softened. She knew how hard it was for him to admit all of this, how awkward he must feel right now trying to explain everything. She wasn’t used to seeing her normally blunt, stoic, collected friend so nervous.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I just didn’t want you to be so sad and lonely anymore.”

Levi threw her another glare but it was less harsh this time, and having been friends with the grumpy man for so long, Hanji could read the hidden gratitude in his eyes. She nodded once in response and went back to checking (Y/N) over.

“(Y/N),” Erwin called, suddenly turning to face her after watching Hanji examine her.

“Yes?”

“Now that we’ve found out about your connection to my Captain here, I want to remind you that I am technically still obligated to take you to the Military Police for your crimes.”

Levi let loose an almost animalistic snarl and wrapped his arms around (Y/N), his eyes flashing and his teeth bared as he dared his friend to even try to take her from him. Erwin didn’t even bat an eye, a small smile curving at the corners of his lips.

“Since it is obvious that is not really an option for either of you, I would like to formally ask you to join the Survey Corps. That way, I can discount any charges against you and protect you from being forcibly taken from our custody once the Military Police realize we are not going to arrive.”

(Y/N) looked up at her husband, meeting his gaze and squeezing his hand comfortingly. Gods she had missed him so much, her heart ached with how much she loved this man, how much she never wanted to let him out of her sight ever again. Even though she had hated the military for most of her life, basing her entire career around it in her search for vengeance, there was no debate in her mind. Even if joining the Survey Corps wouldn’t have guaranteed her life, she knew she would’ve always agreed.

“Yes, I will join the Survey Corps, pledge my life to you, and fight for humanity,” (Y/N) said clearly and without hesitation, returning the smile the Commander threw her. Turning to Levi, (Y/N) looked deeply into his gunmetal eyes, marveling at the emotion swirling within them. “I will follow you, wherever you go, no matter what happens, I am never letting you out of my sight ever again.”

Levi let a genuine smile ride across his face as Erwin and Hanji left to go submit the proper paperwork, giving the reunited couple some privacy. Leaning down, Levi pressed his lips to hers in a blazing kiss, gentle and sweet but no less passionate, letting his kisses tell her exactly how he was feeling in that moment.

“I’m so glad you’re alive, (Y/N),” Levi whispered breathlessly when they pulled apart, resting his forehead against hers.

“I will always come back to you, Levi,” (Y/N) said, her own eyes glazed with unshed tears. “I only ever feel truly alive when I am with you.”

~~~

A/N: I know the ending dialogue is a little cheesy but I had fun writing this anyway. Thank you again for reading and I hope you enjoy! More Levi content coming soon!

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

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Hello! I was reading the « fic rec » question and i would be reeeeaaaallly glad to have a look at what you liked! Anything Anakin-related, and preferably AU or fix it (the nile ain’t just a river yada yada...) Thaaaaaanks

Anakin fix-its? You’ve come to the right place. These are all the stories in my bookmarks tagged as “fix it”! There are more but I do not have the patience to search for all of them rn. Not all of these are as Jedi positive as I like my fanfic, but they’re all 10/10 reads regardless.

Title: The Giver Summary: Anakin had pretty much adjusted to life at the Jedi temple. He went to class, he trained with his master, and he had begun to have strange dreams. A friendly figure would meet him at night when he closed his eyes and went to sleep. As they build up their friendship, Anakin begins to slowly confide in them, telling him about his worries, hopes, and dreams. They offer guidance and wisdom, watching Anakin grow to be a Jedi Knight, and trying to figure out where everything went wrong. Sometimes, the answers that you're looking for aren't ahead of you, they're behind. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22790647

Title: If you could love the flame Summary: And Anakin knows suddenly and irrevocably that they will always be this: his two royals, his two diplomats, his two myths come to life Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/25100827

Title: Sabbatical Summary: Anakin decides to leave the Jedi as a child, and Obi-Wan goes with him. When Palpatine sends Dooku to find them, things don't go as planned. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/22801789

Title: where the light won’t find you Summary: Or maybe Anakin, Obi-Wan, and Ahsoka do turn to the Dark Side after Mortis. And maybe they accidentally save the galaxy anyways? (But that doesn't mean they still don't cause a headache for the rest of the galaxy.) Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24460300

Title: Family is more than Blood Summary:Two souls go into a sandstorm to change their fates. They find each other instead.Or the slightly cracky AU where a bounty hunter is the one that gives the Chosen One a proper family. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24469039

Title: Twin Sons Summary: “He…” Anakin took a breath, trying to force his heart to stop hammering into his ribs, and he looked back at the man kneeling behind him, trying to apologize with his eyes, “he’s like me, sir. He’s like me, he’s a slave! His Master made him do this, his Master caused him…don’t hurt him. Not when we have him here, not when…not when we can free him.” - On Slavery, Freedom, and bringing Balance to the Force. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24449365

Title: Aay’han Summary: Obi-Wan Kenobi sees what the Jedi Temple is doing to his Padawan, and he acts.This affects the galaxy in ways he never could have imagined. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24280987

Title: if only i knew Summary:Newly knighted Obi-Wan Kenobi and his padawan, Anakin Skywalker, have been sent to Ryloth on a simple diplomatic envoy. While there, an unsettling incident causes Obi-Wan to look at Anakin in a new light and re-evaluate...everything.The Galaxy will never be the same.aka: "come for the obikin, stay for the tzai and deep emotional discussions that dismantle every single misunderstanding in the prequels." Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/24353887

Title: Ib'tuur Jatne Tuur Ash'ad Kyr'amur Summary: No one knows what the Council is hiding, but the effects ripple throughout the galaxy. Anakin knows he is loved. Former slaves are freed. A long-lost Master and his Padawan are returned to the Temple. No one understands how Obi-Wan Kenobi does these things, but they are grateful for it anyway. Link:https://archiveofourown.org/works/23581780

Coruscanti Regency The thing is, when Anakin figures it out, is that it all obviously has been there, if he’d only cared to look for it.And, admittedly, he is angry. Mostly at himself, which isn’t something that happens very often, so it’s an especially harrowing realization.All these years, he thinks, I’ve been so blind. I was so busy ignoring everything I didn’t want to think about and blaming everyone else for things not under their control that I didn’t stop to look at the bigger picture.He sighs and leans back in his chair to gaze at the ceiling.If only, he laments, true remorse coloring his thoughts, I had started watching period holodramas earlier.OR, how Plo Koon watching and subsequently introducing Ahsoka to Star Wars’ version of Downton Abbey changes Anakin's life path like nothing else could.

Reading Into Things When Ahsoka first meets the Supreme Chancellor, she gets a sense of his less than wholesome interest in her Master. Her intuition will go a long way.

Simple Steps Galaxy changing events don't just suddenly occur. They are the result of a series of small steps.

like someone bereft and lied to Anakin has a weird feeling in his stomach as he walks away from the Chancellor’s office.Who would have thought that Chancellor Palpatine would be a student of the Sith? Only to know how to keep the Republic safe from them, of course. All those priceless artifacts and holocrons that he’s collected to keep safe, hidden in his private rooms.It’s a good thing that he isn’t Force-sensitive, Anakin thinks with a small laugh, because the energy coming from all those things would have driven the poor man mad in a day. He only spent maybe twenty minutes in the room, just long enough to look at the piece the Chancellor thought might be of use to him, and his head was still spinning.

Deliver Us Jango Fett cannot save all his clones, but he can save five. He can save five, if he's willing to entrust them to the Jedi. Not just any Jedi, though. One who has already defied their Code for a child. One who knows Mandalorian culture. It is worth it, to save five innocent lives. He had no way of knowing it would change the galaxy and throw the proverbial spanner in one Sith Lord's plans.

we are all just trying to be holy There was something warm and gentle in Depa’s voice, the way there always was, the way that was starting to sound like home to Anakin, though it would be awhile now before he recognized it. “Let me tell you a secret, my young Padawan: every Jedi has attachments.” He blinked up at her, eyes wide and confused. “Even Master Windu?” She laughed, nodding. “Even Master Windu.” -- An AU where Depa Billaba takes Anakin Skywalker as her Padawan, Obi Wan Kenobi interferes just a little bit, and Mace Windu is very, very tired.

The Price of a Name Anakin isn't quite sure how to deal with the clones he now commands, especially given that they refuse any attempts to individualize themselves. The quest to help the clones is going to go further than Anakin ever imagined.

Pebble in a River He woke up. And everything changed, but of course, that's what life does. It changes. There are so many options, so many things that seem right. And yet each of those things also feels wrong. Failure isn't an option, not again. But there is no outline for success, and he's hardly the only one in the game. He's tired, and exhausted, and so very lonely. But force help him, he's going to save as many people as he can. Really, Force, he needs the help.

Entirely of the Light With Palpatine unveiled as Sidious, Anakin manages to defeat him but ends up severely injured. As he recovers, Obi-Wan finds himself helping Padmé raise her and Anakin's children while he struggles with his feelings for both Anakin and Padmé.

Aggressive Negotiations Everything about Skywalker was unorthodox. Even his parenting skills. A war meeting was the last place Rex expected to find a pair of toddlers, but there they were. But Rex is an officer, and a professional, and he will absolutely hold a child's hand if they ask. He's not a monster.

I had a vision! Mace Windu gets thrown back in time right to the point where Anakin is first presented to the Council. He remembers the horrors of the Clone Wars and he will do everything to change the oncoming future. "I had a vision" is becoming his most used phrase, he earns himself a Padawan with a penchant for trouble and Qui-Gon lives. All is going well, isn't it? No, there's still a republic to save, an army to deal with and most certainly a timeline to unfuck. Based on the tumblr posts by suzukiblu.

The Same Hope You will come to me sooner or later, Chosen One.Maybe once, when he was in the middle of a war that seemed like it would never end, a secret relationship dividing him between two of the people he loved most, juggling the guilt of failing his padawan. Maybe the Anakin back then had felt beholden to destiny, had had no choices, had felt like he would never have any choices.But the Anakin of now is a different person, because of his choices.He chose to leave the Order. He chose a new start.He chose acceptance, and understanding, and sometimes even forgiveness.He chose Obi-Wan. Always Obi-Wan.[[ The story of how we got here and everything that happens after. ]]

A Mind Always Free "Observe. Learn what you can. Keep everything secret. Don't be emotionless, but don't allow your emotions to show. And most importantly, take what you can get when you can get it, but let it go when it is taken away from you," Shmi Skywalker said softly, caressing the face of her son.(Anakin remembers what's like to be a slave and the Galaxy is better for it.)

Home Time travel fix-it story with a bit of a twist. After his death, Obi-Wan wakes up on Tatooine, in the body of his padawan self. But instead of trying to prevent Anakin from Falling, he decides to change the future by stopping Qui-Gon from ever meeting the little Ani. If Anakin lives like a civilian, away from the Temple and Palpatine, the world will be a better place... right?A story in which Obi-Wan learns that Anakin Skywalker will always be his home--and his ultimate weakness--regardless of his attempts to do the right thing and stay away.

You Shall Become (Me) The Guardian of the Sith Temple doesn’t particularly care for the new breed of Sith, for all that they’ve been around for 1,000 years. But they’re the only Sith the Guardian knows about. Until one day…Alternately, "How to accidentally join the Sith without really trying."

Elements The words “Yes, Master,” come out of Anakin’s mouth so naturally that Obi-Wan suspects they were his first words. The realization comes to him so suddenly: his Padawan still has the mindset of a slave. When he decides to fix that, everything changes.

The Chosen Anakin is found by Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan when he's a newborn. It changes things.

The Sun and the Ocean Five things that happened when the twins were born early.hint: threesomes happen and assholes die.

A Time For A Yes, a Time For A Hell No The Council comes to him with a stupid, asinine plan that will only work if Anakin is in on it. Only to tell them that Anakin isn't going to be in on it.That's the moment Obi-wan decides he's had enough.[Prequel to my story "Go on, Go! Walk out that door" or 'The Scene' that started it all]

Magic Blankets C-3PO accidentally saves the galaxy by teaching a young Ani Skywalker how to crochet.Or in which the power of love and crafts solve a lot of problems and the Jedi Creche is about two inches away from kidnapping Anakin at any given moment.

#star wars #anakin skywalker #fanfic recs #ask #anon

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nataliedanovelist · 4 years

Text

C-137 Vs. 46'\

C-137 Vs. 46'\ = A Gravity Falls & Rick and Morty crossover fic for @stephreynaart! I meant to finish this, like, forever ago, but I did my best and decided this has stayed hidden in my files long enough. I hope y’all enjoy it!

Stanchez for life!!!

~~~~~~~~~~

Episode Placement: GF = after the finale (season 3) R&M = Between S1E10 and E11 (In S2E2, Rick dates 1/12/2015 on the drop-off papers for Jerry. Though Alex hates dating cartoons, it can be estimated that GF took place during 2013 thanks to Sev'ral Timez, so the next summer would be 2014. So… yeah. I put way too much thought into this.)

The vast galaxy in front of them was an endless sea of stars and space-clouds of many different colors. Some were green, some were blue, some were magenta, it honestly looked like a generic Hot Topic galaxy t-shirt.

But Rick didn’t give a shit about some fucking space-clouds or some fucking shop for teenagers who were trying too hard to be goth. Rick didn’t give a shit about the fact that Morty barely knew how to drive the fucking spaceship. Rick only have a shit about getting away from the other fucking spaceships that were after the humans, but he couldn’t drive because Rick had to repair the fucking weapon to kill those fucking bastards. Fuck.

“Aw, geez, Rick, hurry it up!” Morty yelled.

“Don’t tell me how to do my job, Morty!” Rick snapped back as he tinkered with the huge ray-gun that laid by his feet.

The spacecraft jolted to the side as a beam just barely missed it. Rick caught his screwdriver as it flew in the air for a second and he finished the final turn. Rick grinned maliciously and aimed the newest invention out at the enemy. He pulled the trigger and rather than a beam of light or a bullet escaping the gun, it appeared that nothing happened, until each spaceship seemed to be covered with blood and guts from the inside, covering the windows and halting the enemies’ spaceships.

“Oh my God, Rick, what the hell?!” Morty screamed.

“Relax, Morty, you’ve seen worse. It’s just a gun that released microscopic ninjas that slice people up from the inside until they’re nothing b-b-but guts.” Rick burped through the alcohol and leaned on the big gun proudly with a monotone voice and facial expression.

“No, Rick, what the hell IS THAT?!”

Rick looked ahead to see a wormhole of pink, blues, and whites glowing brightly in front of them. Morty was trying to turn the spaceship away, but they were being pulled in by gravity.

“Well, fuck.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Mabel was bouncing like she had springs on the bottoms of her shoes as she held her Grunkle Ford’s hand. They were both wearing ponchos and on their way to the magical part of the forest. Mabel, Dipper, Stan, and Ford had only been back in Gravity Falls for two days and Ford wanted to start off this summer right by bonding with his favorite grandniece in the Multiverse.

Ford felt guilty of the little time they had spent together the previous summer. True, he had arrived home a little late in the season, but he had spent plenty of time bonding with Dipper, leaving not nearly enough for Mabel. Ford loved her very much, but with Dipper things were more predictable. The boy was a lot like him, so Ford knew what to expect and how to bond with him, like playing Dungeons, Dungeons, and More Dungeons or working or investigating an anomaly together. Ford had no clue what twelve… thirteen-year-old girls liked and Mabel’s overwhelming flood of love and affection had startled Ford like an old alley-cat.

Still, he admired her positivity and loved to do arts-and-crafts with her. They had captured time last summer for her to make a beautiful hand-turkey on Ford’s six-fingered hand; she had said that the extra feather made it special. The old scientist had no idea what he had done to deserve Mabel… no, he didn’t deserve Mabel, but she seemed to like him, so he owed her some alone-time. Mabel seemed to like the supernatural almost as much as Dipper (Dipper took a more serious approach to it while Mabel seemed to accept everything with loving arms), so Ford offered to take her out to the magical part of the forest over breakfast and Mabel nearly choked on her Stan-cake out of pure joy.

Now, as the morning sun rose and was nearly above their heads, after about an hour of traveling and quietly talking, they were starting to reach the magical part of the forest.

“So, why do we need ponchos, Grunkle Ford?” Mabel asked as she used her free-hand to play with the yellow hood that was over her beautiful brown hair.

“Because the fairies we’re going to investigate are… rather messy.” Ford landed on. The Barf Fairies used to turn his stomach, but after traveling through dimensions for over thirty years, Ford’s stomach had hardened and since Mabel also seemed to have a strong gag-reflex, he decided that he would try to learn more about the less-than-pleasant type of fairies. “I would hate for them to ruin a Mabel Pines original.” Ford added with a smile down at the young teenager.

Mabel grinned braces-free (she had them removed back in February) up at the old scientist, loving it when he called one of her sweaters a Mabel Pines original, and her eyes twinkled when she saw the blue sweater through Ford’s poncho, the one she had made for him with a golden six-fingered hand on the front, like his old journals. “So, these are…”

“Barf Fairies.”

“Right. What do you already know about them?”

“Only that we should avoid whatever they eat.”

Mabel laughed along with him and said, “Okay. Well… I’ve actually never talked to or met a fairy before, so looks like we’re both starting from square-one. Did you meet any fairies out in the Multiverse?”

“Yes, but they were very different than the one here in Gravity Falls. I once landed in a dimension where the seasons changing was caused by the fairies, and in another dimension I met a giant fairy-queen that looked more like a slug with wings covered in glitter.”

Mabel opened her mouth to contribute to the conversation, but they both heard a noise and stopped walking in the woods. The sound had made them think of clanking metal and yells. They looked up and around at the trees, but a little puff of smoke confirmed that they had heard some sort of machine.

“What was that?” Mabel asked quietly.

“I’m not sure.” Ford said honestly and started to walk them to a clearing.

The two Pines left the cluster of pinetrees so they could look around the skies more clearly. It was a beautiful cloudless early-summer day. As they looked up at the heavens above, a flying-disk of a spaceship was whizzing over their heads, having trouble staying up in the air. Ford held Mabel close in fear of it crashing down near them, but the spaceship staggered over the woods and crashed landed from a safe distance.

“Aliens!” Mabel gasped. “Dipper told me about the one under the town! Do you think this is like that one?”

Ford, whose mind was racing, shook his head to try to think straight, and he said, “No, I… I think I know what it is, but… Mabel, I’m afraid the Barf Fairies are going to have to wait.”

Mabel peeled off her poncho and shook her hair free, revealing her purple sweater with a heart and sunglasses on it that matched her red skirt and headband. Ford also took off his poncho, pocketed both of the big yellow articles of clothing in his trenchcoat, but then pulled out his gun. He opened his mouth to tell Mabel to stay close, but she already pulled out her grappling hook and was standing behind Ford, waiting for him to lead the way.

Ford crept back into the woods with Mabel behind him. He had a good idea of what had crashed into Gravity Falls, but he had hoped that he was wrong. He didn’t want Mabel to meet him. Ford was hoping he would never show up in this dimension, but if he was still traveling around the Multiverse…

A low hissing noise from a busted engine told Ford and Mabel where to go. They only had to walk a minute before the spaceship came into view, landing in between two trees and leaving a trail of up-turned dirt in its path before coming to a halt. Ford and Mabel slowly moved towards the ship with their weapons in hand, but they found it unnecessary as a boy stumbled out and coughed into a fist, on his hands and knees and ruffled from the crash.

“Oh geez, oh man, we’re dead. We’re dead. We survived, but we’re dead.” The boy moaned as he slowly stood up. He looked about Mabel’s age, had short brown hair, and wore jeans and a yellow t-shirt with white sneakers.

Mabel pocketed her grappling hook while Ford let his arms fall to his side, but he kept the weapon in hand, just in case. “Huh. That was… not what I was expecting.” Ford said, more to himself than to Mabel.

Mabel stepped forward with her hands up kindly and she cleared her throat, gaining the boy’s attention. He blinked at the two humans and Mabel said in a soft voice, “Uh, hi, I’m Mabel. Are you hurt?”

“What?” The boy asked. He seemed jittery from the crash, his eyes darting and his forehead glistening with sweat. “Uh, n-no. No, I’m fine. I’m…”

“MORTY!”

The boy groaned and squeezed his eyes shut as he tilted his head upward. “Yup, that’s my name. Morty.”

An older man in a white lab-coat with blue-white hair stumbled out of the spaceship, and not out of drunkenness for a change. “Morty, you little…”

“Sanchez.” Ford growled and covered Mable’s ears. He knew this guy had a foul tongue, and while Ford and his brother might have sailors’ mouths, at least he and Stan knew to censor themselves around the kids. Ford’s old friend didn’t.

The old man in the lab-coat looked at Ford and his eyes widened in shock before he grinned. “Oh, no way! Good to see you again, Fordsie!” He laughed, amused by the scenario in front of him. “Great, another genius. Mind giving me a hand with this piece of… erm, crap?”

Ford groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Fine, the sooner I can get you out of my home dimension, the better.”

The man Grunkle Ford had called Sanchez appeared shocked again and he dug around his coat. “Wait, wait, wait. Your home dimension?” Sanchez pulled out a white flat gun with a green bulb on top and he seemed to be reading off a tiny screen. “Huh. Dimension 46’\. This one’s way out of the loop. There’s no way I could’ve gotten you home with this thing. How did you manage to pull that off?”

“Long story.” Ford said and pocketed his hand in his trenchcoat.

“Grunkle Ford,” Mabel piped and smiled up at the visitor. “Who’s this?”

Ford looked down at his niece and decided to share this piece of his thirty-year-long journey in the Multiverse with her. “Sweetie, this is my old acquaintance, Rick Sanchez. Rick, this is my great-niece, my brother Sherman’s granddaughter, Mabel.”

“Oh, hey, nice to meet you, little lady.” Rick said with a small smile and then jabbed a thumb back at Morty. “That little screw-up is my grandson, Morty.”

“Oh, yeah, like you could do any better, Rick.” Morty huffed with crossed-arms over his thin chest.

“I could do better, Morty,” Rick said and rounded on his grandson. “You know what else I can do? I can also leave you behind on Asteroid 3924987, but I won’t. I can also feed you to a five-headed mega-bird from Bird-Person’s homeworld, but I won’t. I can also send you to the citadel and trade you in for a new Morty, but I won’t, as long as you quit being a pain in the ass.”

“Rick, please!” Ford hissed.

“It’s okay, Grunkle Ford, I heard worse when I went to get a snack and Stan was watching football.” Mabel giggled, remembering the other night when Stan’s team was losing and he let out a long stream of colorful swears that made him turn red when he realized Mabel had heard him.

“Of course you have.” Ford groaned and shook his head. “Well, let’s see what the damage is, Sanchez. What caused the crash? Did your micro-verse battery finally start a rebellion?”

“No, because they know if they do, I’ll get a new battery, Genius. When we came to this dimension through a wormhole we hit a mountain side and a part broke off here…”

The two old men examined the spacecraft and were discussing ways to fix it, meanwhile Morty walked up to Mabel and rubbed an arm nervously. “So, uh… I guess they met out in the Multiverse, huh?”

Mabel nodded; she didn’t know how these two old men knew each other or why these two humans were in a spaceship, but based on context clues, Morty’s guess made the most sense. “Wait, so you two are from another dimension?”

“Yeah, pretty much.” Morty said with a shrug. “This is 46'\, right? My dimension is C-137.”

“Wow, cool!” Mabel said with shining eyes that threw Morty for a loop. “So, what’s different over there? Was Benjamin Franklin a man and never accomplished anything? Are dinosaurs still alive? Oo! I bet your sky is lavender-purple all the time, right?!”

Morty laughed a little and rubbed his arm again. “Uh, no. It’s, I think, pretty much the same as yours. My Grandpa Rick says there’s an infinite number of realities that are just slightly different from one another. M-M-Maybe the difference between C-137 and 46'\ is so small and unimportant it’s not obvious.”

“Oh, okay,” Mabel peered over to watch Rick and Ford work together for a little bit and then she smiled back at Morty. “So, do you always go on adventures with your Grandpa Rick?”

Morty sighed in a shaky puberty-voice and nodded. “Yeah, he’s always making me go on these stupid adventures with him.”

“What?” Mabel gasped with a smile. “They’re not stupid! I’d love to go to a different dimension with my Grunkle Ford! I’ve already been on one with him and Grunkle Stan when they had to rescue me from Dimension Mab3L. The other mes were a little self-centered, but it was a lot of fun to punch myself in the face and rescue my great-uncles.”

“Yeah, but from the sounds of it, your - what did you say, Grunkle Ford? - is nice to you.” Morty pointed out. “My Grandpa Rick treats me like garbage all the time, but then again he treats everyone like garbage, so at least he’s only signaling me out to stay hidden from the Federation or whatever.”

“Oh.” Mabel said quietly and held her hands behind her back bashfully, unsure of how to respond, but she decided to try to make Morty feel better. “Well, my other great-uncle, Grunkle Stan, is a little tough sometimes, but that’s only because he cares about his family and is toughening us up for a tougher world. He’s my hero!”

“That sounds nice.” Morty said with a small smile. He didn’t think Rick cared about his family like this Stan guy, but Morty wasn’t in the mood to kill Mabel’s optimism. “I like your sweater, by the way.”

“Thanks!” Mabel grinned proudly. “I made it!”

Morty’s eyes widened. “Wow, really?” Mabel held out her arm so Morty could feel her sleeve. “Oh my God, that’s amazing! You’re really talented.”

“Hey, thanks! If you want, I can make you one!”

“R-R-Really? You’d do that for me?”

“Sure! What’s your favorite color?”

“Uh… y-yellow.”

“Got it!”

Ford and Rick walked up to the teenagers and the six-fingered researcher said, “Well, I’m afraid the ship lost a part we need, but luckily I have the materials we need to build one in the lab back home.”

“Great!” Mabel said and grinned. “Let’s go! So, how did you two meet, anyway?”

Ford and Mabel led the way with Rick and Morty closely behind. “We met about twenty years ago in a high-security prison. I remember feeling relieved to see another human. I had been without human contact for a little under two years at the time since I had been stranded on some desert planet.”

“Yeah, this nerd got into big trouble for the extinction of a few million species on Planet 8824816.”

“What?!” Mabel gasped and looked up at her great-uncle, unable to believe that he would cause such mass genocide. “Grunkle Ford, you didn’t?!”

“Of course I didn’t, Mabel.” Ford quickly reassured his niece. “That was the planet I thought was a sandwich. Anyway, at least I didn’t do what Rick was in for…”

“What did he do?”

“I purposely caused mass genocide on Sector 56, Dimension “”113.” Rick said in a scaringly monotone voice.

“What?!”

“Rick!” Ford and Morty both scolded at the same time.

“Hey, it was either me or the Valakawns!” Rick snapped back. “Those bloodsucking leeches didn’t see what hit them, until the Federation caught me hanging from a tree upside-down, passed out and drunk.”

“Alright, enough!” Ford said firmly. “Let’s just build the part we need so we can get you two back to your home dimension. And, Mabel, once they’re gone we’re going to patch the wormhole with alien adhesive.”

“Okay. Last thing we want is for Dipper to get stuck in Dimension Dipp-3R or something.”

“Who’s Dipper?” Morty asked quietly.

“My twin brother!”

“Oh, cool! I don’t have a twin, but I have met multiple versions of myself.”

“Hey, me too! I’ve met Table-Mabel, Explainble, Threebel, Military-Expert-Mabel, Brainbel, T-Rex-Mabel, Fire-Mabel, and even Anti-Mabel!”

“I’ve met an Evil-Morty with one eye-patch who worked for the worst Rick in the Multiverse. I’ve also… Well, let’s just say I’ve met a lot of mes.”

The two teenagers talked while the two old men chatted on ways to fix the ship as they got closer to the Mystery Shack. Rick looked up and down the place and then snorted, amused. “Huh. Not the kind of place I’d expect from Mr. Stick-In-The-Mud over here.”

“My brother had to make some… changes in order to pay off the mortgage.” Ford explained and led the way to the back door. He opened it and said, “My lab is downstairs behind the vending machine in the gift shop. I believe Soos is giving a tour, so it should be safe to enter.”

“Gift shop?” Rick laughed and poked Ford’s shoulder. “When did you get so soft?”

“I am not< soft.” Ford said dignified.

“You’re wearing a blue sweater with a gold six-fingered hand.”

“My niece made it for me!” Ford said proudly and puffed out his chest.

Mabel rolled her eyes with blushing chubby cheeks and a smile and decided to let the old guys fight. She took Morty’s hand and said, “Come on! I’ll show you my room! I have a huge sticker collection you’ll love!”

“Oh, okay!” Morty said and allowed her to drag her up to the attic; it was nice being dragged to something nice and safe rather than some new monster of a different dimension.

“But hey, you turned your lab into a gift shop.” Rick was saying while the teenagers did their own thing. “Least you’re making a profit.” Ford wasn’t sure if Rick was being sincere or not.

“Actually, it’s all my brother’s.” Ford said and waved the subject away. “We’re getting off track. Let's just get you and your grandson out of my dimension.”

“Geez, you used to be way more fun.” Rick said with sagged shoulders. “What happened to the guy who ranked up million on Lottocron Nine and got tattoos with octopus-armed piglets? What happened to the interdimensional criminal who once shot fifty Bureaucrats to save a fellow scientist’s ass?”

“He discovered what was most important, Sanchez.” Ford growled with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Oh, HO!” A voice laughed as he shook his head and left the kitchen. “I know this guy isn’t talking about Mr. Goody-Nerds-Shoes!”

Ford pinched the bridge of his nose. The last thing he wanted was for his twin and his old friend to meet, but it seemed like some greater being(s) really wanted this to happen, so here we go.

Rick grinned at the sight of a conman in his suit and fez, with a can in his hand, instantly giving Rick the vibe that this guy couldn’t be trusted but would be a hit at parties and wasn’t a total snitch. “Now THIS is what I’m talking about! Name’s Rick, Ford Two.”

Stan barked a laugh and shook his hand. “The name’s Stan, Genius. And please for the love of Moses you weren’t just talking about my brother?”

“Are you kidding, this guy was a total badass!” Rick jabbed a thumb back at the fuming scientist. “He was a total idiot, had no clue how the Multiverse worked, but he was always willing to barrel into whatever crap was out there and destroy some shit!”

“Okay, you and I need to talk.” Stan tossed him the can of soda and went into the kitchen to get some snacks. “I wanna hear more about what kind of crazy violent nomad Ford was back in the day!”

“You got it! Just tell me how the hell he ended up with a cool twin? What, did you inherit all the fun traits leaving him with hobbies like collecting alien stamps?”

Stan barked a laugh and was back, looping an arm around his skinny neck. “I love this guy! Now, please tell me you were there when he got his stupid tattoo.”

“Stanley,” Ford scolded. “We’re supposed to be working on building the part he needs so he can go home. Rick and his grandson are stranded here…”

“Please, I can make that piece of shit from scratch in my sleep.” Rick said. “And Morty’s fine. That niece of yours will keep his small brain entertained for hours.” He turned to Stan and asked, “You got any booze, we had a rough crash here and I need a drink.”

“I got a secret stash in my room,” Stan muttered. “I don’t like drinking with the kids here, but I guess you can have a shot of whisky to relax. Want some soda?”

“Sure, why not. There’s a bit in my flask to last.”

And the old men walked away for the ‘Employees Only’ part of the house, leaving Ford to grit his teeth in annoyance and then bite his lip in discomfort. This could only end one way and he was not looking forward to it.

To be continued...

#gravity falls #rick and morty #stanchez #gift #fanfiction

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fizzingwizard · 4 years

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Alright alright alright digimon adventure: episode 21, go!!! Last week I was interested to see if the pretty vague ep 21 preview was gonna be a mostly dull fight type filler ep or if the reason for the vagueness was there was too much plotty stuff going on for them to reveal. It’s the latter, I’m happy to say!

It was really cool!! There was a lot of good stuff so YAY! Anything I write here will be a spoiler but let’s just say that T is a very important letter in the alphabet! multiple Ts, in fact!!

Cap of the day: my boy being AWESOME

Let’s get to it! under the cut as usual

Now last week’s episode was A LOT. We rescued Takeru who no one even knew needed rescuing, gained and then immediately lost the Holy Digimon, got him back in the form of a digi-egg, and then immediately lost THAT too. Honestly I get why it’s Chosen Children and not Chosen Adults - adults would be like “are you KIDDING me all this work with NO PAYOFF I am gonna SUE”

Patamon’s digi-egg has been abducted by this guy... Skullnightmon? It seems he was a Xros Wars character. I had to look him up because at first I tried “Scarlnightmon” because Idk I was thinking Scarlet Night??? like night of blood and death??? idk. and Google tried to autocorrect it to “Scranton.” Uh... yeah. Skullnightmon makes more sense because of the BIG ASS SKULL on his breasplate. -.-;

It occurs to me how little I know about any Digimon series other than Adventure X’D I mean, I’m not gonna do anything to change that, but.... yeah I’m gonna continue to mix up stuff like this. His loyal steed is Darkmaildramon.

Yamato, of course, is immediately like Protective Mode On.

So at first I was a bit worried that this ep was gonna just Move Things Along as usual and Yamato wasn’t going to react to his little bro randomly being in the digital world. Let alone in the clutches of pure evil up until just recently. When you’re caught up in battle it’s admittedly hard to find time to Talk about stuff but COME ON

Fortunately, thought we don’t get a lot of Talking, we do get a bit. Like this cute moment where Takeru tries to explain what happened and Yamato’s just like “We can talk later” and gives him this adorable head pat. Ok, fine. I can live with that. It’s better than nothing xP

They arrive at the creepy castle which Taichi recognizes as the place Ogremon directed them to. It looks very evil and in front of it is a giant equally evil moat.

They also find this sinkhole sort of thing which Takeru promptly rushes over to stand at the very edge.

Yamato: OMG kid I look away for ONE SECOND

le gasp! Takeru finds a shiny feather at the edge of the hole! It’s a sign of the holy digimon! We should go investigate!

Oops first we have to find this gross Garurumon knock off... Its name is Splashmon but I think it should be “MeltedCrayonGarurumon”

Splashmon is apparently also from Xros wars and can turn into liquid and take on the form of other Digimon... I don’t know if he’s always this shit at it though. Maybe being controlled by evil is the reason for all the meltyness because he looks pretty cool in his wikia:

rofl...

Splashmon showers them all with acid rain and Yamato protec baby bro :< *wibble*

He then carries him to safety like this. xP

Yamato: Takeru, hide!

Takeru: This bottomless pit that reeks of evil seems like an ideal hiding spot. Niichan will be so proud

No but seriously... looks like we don’t get cowardly, crybaby Takeru this season. The kids getting to y’know Be Human about stuff is a thing it looks like I’m going to continue to miss in this reboot. But on the other hand, I genuinely DO enjoy Takeru throwing his all into saving Angemon.

Skullnightmon sticks Angemon’s digi-egg here where it gets chained down by evil vines. Very evil. Also seems like overkill, I mean, it’s an egg, what’s it going to do, roll off the platform?

We then switch gears and rejoin the kids in the real world, where Koushirou has, apparently overnight, if not in the last five minutes, created an update for their digivices which enables them to always be in contact with their partner. I don’t really get the details but that appears to be the size of it. We also catch up with Mimi and Jou.

At first I thought this was a school, but no, IT’S MIMI’S HOUSE. She has a PERSONAL CHAUFFEUR. Like, 99 Adventure Mimi was well-off, that was especially clear in 02... but... WOWZA.

Mimi’s parents look as stupid as ever xD I love them. They’re joined by her grandpa. After having been gone for three days with no explanation, Mimi’s parents are just like “Don’t you want to take it easy at home today?” when she says she needs to go out. Mimi’s just like “I gotta do what I gotta do!” (ok she actually quotes her grandpa from back in her intro ep but) and leaves like nothing happened.

.... I think grandpa might be dead. He doesn’t move the whole scene. Doesn’t even change his expression. I guess his mouth is a bit more open but that could just be because rigor mortis hasn’t quite set in

Meanwhile in Jou’s (normal, average) apartment, we meet SHIN-NIISAN!!! He’s as much of a dick as ever. I love him. Jou’s parents were mad because 1) he was gone for three days, 2) he skipped cram school, 3) he lost his textbook. I think Shin’s basically like HECK yeah finally my little bro shows his cool side! So he decides to be an enabler. GOOD, seems like Jou needs someone to be on his side at home ;_;

Their Digimon partners are traveling in the interwebz like... this... -____-;

They end up tracking Calmaramon, who is indeed Calmaramon.

I remember from Frontier when Renamon evolved to Calmaramon everyone gave her SO MUCH GRIEF for not being sexy. Wasn’t there like this whole episode devoted to how beautiful Izumi’s evolutions were and then Calmara the Squid Woman shows up and everyone’s like “ewww gross yuck!!” And ok I know she’s evil here too. But guys I JUST THINK SQUID WOMAN IS WICKED AWESOME OKAY. Like that is a LOOK. Versace take notes.

Like can we get some body positivity??? There is NOTHING wrong with being half-squid. Zephyrmon is not better just because she wears lingerie! Bet she can beat everyone at the swim meet. Also tastes yummy fried or raw with soy sauce.

ok I’m done. I’m serious about loving Calmaramon though. I have so many Frontier issues I totally forgot about >_>;

*cough* so yeah Calmaramon and those little green Digimon virus things take control of some boat and Koushirou’s like Uh-Oh Danger Will Robinson. Piyomon tries to attack with Magical Fire and is surprised, for some reason, when it does not do much. They are very much outnumbered and Calmaramon is clearly a much higher level than them so WHY do they think child-level is gonna be enough??

So this is cool!! Koushirou appears to be learning to read digi-code! He sounds out Calmaramon’s name by himself. We still pretty much have the question of why Taichi could just read digi-code fluently (well, almost? he randomly couldn’t read everything at the fortress if memory serves) and Koushirou has to sound it out... will we get an answer to this or?? Like if it were Takeru or Hikari I’d just assume it’s their Magic Baby powers at work but it was never made clear if just Taichi can read like this or they all can, and now it seems like maybe they all can’t since Koushirou’s trying so hard here...

Meanwhile Takeru...

99 Yamato would never have taken his eyes off Takeru for so long lmao

though it makes more sense if this season’s Takeru is more independent which he seems to be

Splashmon turns out to be really tough to beat, because he’s lost his mind and therefore holds nothing back xP He crushes MetalGreymon and WereGarurumon to the ground, infecting them with miasma.

At this point I was disappointed that Taichi and Yamato were still so clear-headed... like when are you gonna worry about your partner dude?? He gets the Crest of Courage because he’s never felt fear in his life??????

But then, their next move fails and WereGarurumon de-evolves back to Gabumon, while MetalGreymon is still in Splashmon’s clutches. He proceeds to pretty much make MetalGreymon’s arm wither away...

And Taichi FINALLY looks worried. ABOUT TIME.

Takeru has made it to the bottom of the hole, where he is startled to find this giant eye. I would also fall right on my bottom if I suddenly came across a giant eye.

Giant eye seems interested in Takeru’s digivice, so Takeru politely lets him have a look. BLINGGGGGGG.

Giant Eye: Ow ow ow turn it down!!!

Takeru: Sorry it’s LED!!

Taichi runs to rescue MetalGreymon in the... most ineffectual way possible... I love him...

The miasma can even hurt humans, it appears. Even though he’s in pain, Taichi doesn’t give up, and we get to hear Yamato shriek “Taichi!” all scared and adorable-like.

Taichi passionately reminds MetalGreymon about what they’re fighting for and succeeds in motivating him to be less dead.

Taichi: GIMME A V DOT THE I CURLY C T O R Y VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP* VICTORY!! *CLAP CLAP*

Yamato: Incredible... so this is the power of a Pep Talk...

Taichi’s Pep causes MetalGreymon’s arm to... fall off... but it’s ok because it sprouts a long wiggly band of light uhhhhhh which then turns into a Giant Gun. So all is well. because MetalGreymon didn’t already have enough guns

MetalGreymon succeeds in defeating Splashmon and we seem some purple crystal sort of thing disappear, my guess is that’s what was controlling him. Agumon falls from midair and Taichi catches him like this.

They cute. They also need a break. Well, Agumon needs a break, I honestly think Taichi doesn’t even have an Off button...

Just when you think things can’t get weirder... Giant Eye appears.

Takeru’s on top of him looking all cool! Till he immediately falls!

Yamato catches him somewhat more adroitly than Taichi caught Agumon xP

The eye belongs to ElDradimon!! I love “animals with worlds on their backs” so this is totally up my ally. My first guess about the eye was that it was gonna be one of the digital sovereigns but this is still pretty cool.

Sooooooo cooooooooool

Yamato doesn’t even lecture Takeru about going off on his own and not hiding like he was told. SO DIFFERENT CANNOT COMPUTE. But looks how happy Takeru is to be praised by his bro for helping ElDradimon. Awww.

I’ve got to now reevaluate how I think things will go down because I really expected Takeru to be something that drives a wedge between Yamato and Taichi. In the old days, Yamato was super protective but Taichi would let Takeru do whatever and Takeru got a little boy crush on him which fed into Yamato’s inferiority complex. But if Yamato’s not overprotective and Takeru is already capable on his own... New directions are good though. I won’t be sorry if they don’t rehash all that BUT I need it to be replaced with something else. Taichi can’t just always be serious, Yamato can’t just always be cool... I like the reboot but I am still on edge about the character stuff.

... Yeah so ElDradimon was mega cool and then... he opened up his VACANT head... bahahaha.... bahahahahahahahahahahaha

So what I really liked about this ep was what I saw as parallels drawn between Taichi and Takeru on the theme of “Do anything to help your partner.” Takeru can’t stop looking for Angemon’s egg, that’s why he goes into the hole after finding the feather. He might not know what’s doing but he’s still gonna do it. Taichi knows a bit more and he’s usually so calculating and strategic, but when MetalGreymon looked on the verge of defeat he threw caution to the wind and tried to save him himself. Okay, not the first time we’ve seen this, true, but it did seem to be the running theme of the episode.

I know I didn’t really talk about how apparently the kids can now update their partners with new powers/gadgets?? by believing in them enough... but y’know that just sounds like the sort of thing a kid’s show would do. I almost miss the card game from Tamers... it would be cool to see the kids have to think and strategically choose what they want to equip their partners with. That was part of the enticement of Tamers, where Adventure was more inexplicable magic, Tamers relied more on intent. Taichi is such a strategist (and of course there’s also freaking Koushirou) that it seems a waste to not involve the kids in the decision making more.

Next week’s ep preivew was a bit hard to follow but 1) the animation looks better than this week thank heaven and 2) it looks like fun. And we get more bamf Takeru! Woot. Can I still say woot in 2020? I can because of senior citizen privilege right?

#digimon adventure:#digimon adventure 2020 #digimon adventure reboot #digi spoilers #digimon #fizz watches digimon 2020

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mor-beck-more-problems · 4 years

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Remember You Have Died || Morgan & Remmy

TIMING: Recent past, during the reign of Shroomdre

LOCATION: Morgan & Deirdre’s house, war memorial

PARTIES: @whatsin-yourhead & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Morgan and Remmy need help on a low day.

CONTAINS: discussions of death, depression, ptsd

Morgan couldn’t afford to spend the day on the floor. The house was a mess. Mushroom Deirdre was off doing...she wasn’t even sure what. And the sheets were getting that off-color of needing a wash. The sun was getting annoyingly near the windows for the second time in the day, which meant she hadn’t moved in...way more hours than she’d realized. The cats would need to be fed soon, and dishes washed so she could make dinner and get them dirty again so they’d get washed again, and maybe some other Morgan in some other dimension was already doing this, but this one, stuck to the empty bed, was just watching her daily responsibilities stack up and teeter over, all because, what, her life had blown up once some years ago on the same day? Morgan made herself breathe and reminded herself she was here, and there was one other person still in the house who might be feeling almost as immobile as she did.

It took an hour’s work, but she made it to Remmy’s door and knocked. “Hey…” she called weakly. “You got room for another zombie in there?”

The silence wasn’t really all that quiet when Remmy listened closely. There were ticking clocks and sometimes people shouting outside. The soft hum of the air conditioner that they couldn’t feel, or the low groan or a car engine outside. On the bed, in their room, they didn’t jump so much at each noise, but the impossibility of relaxing had circled them for hours, tugging them away from doing anything that could’ve been considered productive. At one point they turned on the radio and wished for the drone of the afternoon DJ’s voice to cut out the rest of the world’s noise, but it didn’t work. It never worked. Moose had stayed on the floor next to the bed most of the day, like he was trained to, occasionally nudging their hand with his nose to make sure they weren’t slipping into a world that didn’t exist except for in their own mind. At another point, they had sat up and opened their notebook, wondering if occupying their mind with thoughts of designs would bring up anything, but all they’d managed to do was scrape out a picture of Luce, and the last smile they remembered her having.

When the knock came, Remmy closed the notebook quickly and looked to the door, before sliding off the bed with great effort and pulling it open enough to find Morgan slumped outside. She looked as weary as they did. “Always,” they said quietly and let her saunter in at her own pace, sitting back on the bed and setting the notebook down on their nightstand. “Where’s Deirdre? Is she still…” they didn’t need to finish the sentence. The answer was in Morgan’s eyes. “Sorry, never mind.” They scooted over to her when she climbed on, arms already reaching for her. “Wanna talk about it?”

Morgan shuffled into the room and let her body collapse itself next to Moose. “I don’t know where she is,” she huffed. “Which, you know, isn’t new actually. She’s got stuff that’s unpredictable.” She shrugged, and tried to smile at Remmy. She was supposed to be looking for the positive, for where the seam between one Deirdre and another matched up. But her thoughts teetered two steps forward and one step back today. “It’s gonna be at least a week, just so you know,” she said. “Today’s just not a good day for me. This time of year is just...not good.” She worked her arms around Moose and tried to remember what his fur felt like. “What’s up with you today?” She asked. “I’m more zomb than me, but I can still listen, probably…”

Moose, objectively, was better at snuggles than Remmy. He was big and soft and heavy, a weighted blanket full of love. He shuffled into Morgan’s grip a little more when she wrapped him up, as if trying to let her know he understood her need. Remmy leaned in gave him a soft pat on the head before scooping their arm around Morgan, laying their chin on her shoulder. “You’re allowed to have not good days, you know,” they reminded her. “Even not good weeks.” They thought for a moment how to answer, before realizing there was no point in skirting around much. Not with Morgan. “Nothing is really up with me today. Just trying to remember I’m safe and loved,” they said quietly, “even if some people won’t admit it.” Eyed their journal before focusing back on Morgan. “Guess we’re both a little more zombie today, huh?”

Morgan let go of whatever crummy piece of pride she had and reached up to pull Remmy closer to her. “Of course you’re safe and loved,” she mumbled, giving their arm a squeeze. She smirked, wry with the hilarity of depressed irony. “Says me, in my girlfriend’s fancy house, that I wouldn’t be in if she didn’t love me, in the room you wouldn’t be in if we both didn’t love you, and here all are feeling like..pfft.” Another dry gasp of a laugh. “Did you know she told people I hate her? I know I should probably get over myself on that. At least my girl will come back to me someday. Eventually. But hey, maybe Luce will figure her stuff out before then.” She kissed Remmy’s arm and gave them a squeeze. “Why do things have to be awful in the first place?”

“You know she doesn’t mean it,” Remmy said back, holding her just a little tighter. Knowing that they could squeeze her in their arms and never hurt her. Not really. The comfort that tightness brought was a familiar brand. Like a weighted blanket or the warm embrace of freshly dried sheets, something neither of them would truly ever feel again. “Deirdre loves you more than anything. Mushrooms or not. She’ll always come back to you.” They nuzzled into Morgan, breathing her in and letting out a long breath-- a simple motion that still brought old comforts with it as well. “I doubt it,” they muttered into her shoulder, “she keeps signing off on me. I don’t know why I keep letting myself hope she’ll let me in. It just-- it hurts, you know?” they turned their head to the side so they could look up at Morgan. “Seeing her in pain. It hurts me, too.” They contemplated the words for a moment. “Because there’s no good without bad?” they answered, raising a brow.

Morgan’s snort was a little lighter this time. “Will it make you feel any better if I tell you all the times Deirdre signed off on me because she didn’t want to talk about her feelings? Maybe in a few months you’ll be all...cute and cuddly and obnoxious. You just have to get over the, ‘she’s afraid of her feelings and doesn’t think she deserves happiness’ thing.” She shifted away from Moose, curling up fully in Remmy’s arms. “That was supposed to be in the hopeful rainbows sort of tone. I’m sorry, Remmy. I know it hurts. It hurts like nothing else, and the helplessness is just as bad. You don’t have to hide it, you know that, yeah?” She sniffled. “Ugh, don’t get all wise and philosophical on me now. I’m tired of being on the ass end of the Wheel of Fortune. I want better for us than that… but that’s kid’s talk, huh?”

It didn’t make Remmy feel better, but they didn’t need to say that outloud. They nestled Morgan-- they often forgot just how small she was-- in their arms and leaned back against the headboard. Someone drove by outside and Remmy stiffened, waited to hear it move away, then relaxed. “I know I don’t,” they said after a moment, “but sometimes I just don’t wanna feel it, I guess. I know she cares, but she won’t even try and believe that someone could care about her like that back. I don’t know how to get through to her.” They sniffled with her, though no tears pooled in their eyes. “Oh, trust me-- I’m not wise. Or philosophical. More just...hopeful, I guess. I’ve gotta believe that suffering through all of this shit means we get good things at the end of it. We have to. Otherwise, what’s the point, right?” Moose let out a big breath, shifting to move his head into Morgan’s lap, looking up at them as if to agree with their point. Remmy patted his nose and he licked their fingers. “Me, too, buddy,” they nodded sagely, as if they understood his big sigh, “me, too.”

Morgan felt Remmy tense and tightened her grip on them in assurance. She waited with them in stillness. She hadn’t thought anything of it at first, but as Remmy waited it out, she imagined murder vans and hunters with guns and swords and whatever the hellInfector Mortis looked like before it ate up a zombie’s insides. When all was clear, she kissed their arm again, pressing her mouth hard enough for them to feel it. “You’re okay,” she whispered against their skin, holding them a little tighter. “Feeling’s hard sometimes. But that’s how we know we’re still going. We’re really here. Things can still reach us. And I dunno, that sounds pretty philosophical to me.That’s borderline witch talk, great balance in the universe, the wheel coming up again before you know it?” She didn’t say that she was growing skeptical of this. That between the three people who lived here, there didn’t seem to be much in the way of good to outweigh the bad. She wanted them to have this, have whatever hope they could scrape together on a bad day. Just because she felt her stores of hope waning, didn’t mean she had to take theirs. “Can I ask you a weird death question?” She asked into the quiet.

Remmy felt a hot flash of shame. They shouldn’t be so afraid as to flinch every time a car drove by, or a noise sounded around the house that they weren’t familiar with. But they couldn’t help it. Not once, but twice now, they’d been beaten down and stolen away from where they thought they could be safe. They listened to Morgan’s gentle voice, let the feel of her arms around them settle in, blocking out the bad thoughts and perhaps even the ghost pains they still felt in their stomach. “Must’ve gotten that from you,” they muttered, settling into her a little further, a little calmer. A little more defeated. They would hold on for so long that sometimes they forgot it was okay to let go, every once in a while, and let themselves deflate. They sat up a little at Morgan’s question. “Umm, sure. Yeah. What’s up?”

It was funny how they kept coming back together, Morgan thought, draping her legs over Remmy’s lap. However much she made Remmy mad or disappointed, they managed to show up for her and whenever she asked, she got to feel like she wasn’t so alone anymore. And as much as she’d hated them for turning her at first, well, now they never would be alone, would they? Even in five hundred years, as long as Remmy didn’t do anything stupid like die trying to be a hero. Morgan smirked at Remmy’s remark and shifted her arm so she could muss their scruffy hair. “That’s not such a bad thing, right? I have my moments, sometimes?” She gave Remmy another scratch hoping to signal that it wasn’t anything urgent. Nothing like the fate of their loved ones hung in the balance. “You don’t have to if you don’t want,” she said, mumbling into their chest as she made herself cozy again. “But I was just wondering--do you ever miss yourself? Your alive-self? Like, do you wish they were still around, or that you could do something for them, or that they’d had a better time? Is it...weird, do you think, to think about that?”

Remmy scrunched their nose as Morgan ruffled their hair. It was already messy and sticking up in every direction and now it looked like they’d been caught in a wind storm and didn’t know hairbrushes existed. They lifted a hand to smooth it back down after a moment, still holding Morgan with the other. Whatever expectation they’d had when they first met Morgan, this being the center of their relationship had never crossed their mind. They’d never felt like they were enough of a person to have someone who they could know better than anyone else. And even if they shared her with Deirdre, Remmy knew that they could understand Morgan on a level that even she couldn’t. They looked at her with a soft expression, not quite a smile, not quite a frown. Wistful, perhaps. “I think about them a lot,” they muttered, “I feel like they’re lost somewhere and I don’t know how to find them. I--” they paused, “--I don’t think it’s weird. I think...dying was hard. Sometimes I wish I didn’t think about it so much.” They laid their cheek on the top of Morgan’s head. “I don’t even know what I’d do if I could do something for them.” Except, they had done something, hadn’t they. They sat up a little. “Do you-- can I show you something?” they asked. “If you um...have the energy to drive somewhere? It’s not far.”

“I think about alive-me a lot,” Morgan admitted in a whisper, even if it was already rendered obvious by her asking the question. “I almost wish she had her own body so I could just point and be like, yup, there she is. Also, I’m sorry I got us killed. I’m glad I’m here, and that you saved me. I just think about what she wanted for herself, how awful it was for her, and sad. I think, alive-you is somewhere too. They’re not lost-lost, even if it turns out you can’t come back together again. Deirdre says I’m the same. That, even if dying hurts and makes things different, I’m still...me in here. Maybe we just have to wait longer for more of our alive-selves to come home.” She sat up with Remmy this time, her face scrunched up with confusion. “Driving’s a heck of a lot better than walking. As long as I don’t have to fix my hair or get out of my house sweats, I think I can swing a driving trip for you. Just show me the way.”

“No,” Remmy answered, “you don’t. No one really visits there anyway.” They stayed sitting for a moment longer before pulling themself off the bed and Morgan with them. Moose followed suit as well, and they all sauntered in their slow, zombie like states to the car. Remmy plugged in the address-- White Crest Hilltop Memorial Wall-- and off they went. The ride was quiet, but it was quick. They both contemplated what it meant, to have an alive version of themselves somewhere out there, begging to come home. Wishing to be found. Remmy didn’t know what else to say to Morgan, aside from what she’d already said herself. They wished for all those things, too. When they pulled up, the sky was just getting dim. Remmy attached Moose to his lead and held out their hand for Morgan. When they made it up to the wall, Remmy stayed back for a moment. They remembered the kind woman who had handed them flowers, and they remembered the sorrow that had drowned them in their own chest as they’d waited for the sun to go down. And there, still carved into the stone-- the names of their fallen comrades. And their own name. “I don’t think alive me ever came back from that place,” they whispered softly. Their voice was almost lost to the wind, the ocean currents. “How do I find them now?”

Morgan hung onto Remmy’s hand the whole way they walked together. She hadn’t been to this side of town before, and the strange landscape unfolded strangely before her, even with how easily it blended into the rest of the town. It took her a moment to understand what she was looking at. “Oh, Remmy…” The war memorial, for the fallen local soldiers. Remmy had carried their friends this far and tried to give them a place to rest where they were known and remembered, right next to Remmy’s own. A casualty in an awful war, someone who would never really, fully come home. Morgan slid her arms around Remmy and tucked herself into their side. “No,” she whispered. “Not all of you did. But some of you has, or will. They’ll come out when they know it’s safe to. And maybe they’ll fit differently than they used to, but…” She squeezed them tight, tight as she could, knowing it wouldn’t hurt at all. “I think Deirdre would say something like...whatever parts of you feel like they are or aren’t here, you are whole, right now. You are one whole, wonderful Remmy. And I believe that too. Maybe your pieces are still going to shuffle around, but you’re whole. Maybe it’s not finding, maybe it’s just, moving forward and trusting that something will find you.”

Remmy stayed quiet. They listened to Morgan’s words and they understood that they were meant to help, meant to give Remmy something to think about, to process. But they couldn’t think of anything to say back. So they stayed quiet. Pressed to Morgan, they stayed silent as they looked at the wall and read all the other names that were there, pressed into the smooth granite stone the was erected for the monument. There was a flagpole next to it, always raised at full mast in the morning and pulled down at night. Remmy wondered who did that, who maintained this. Did they know the names on this wall? Maybe just one or even two? In a small town like this, everyone knew everyone, right? Did they come here and see the newly carved names and know who they were, too, then? Remmy blinked after a long time and looked down at Morgan. “How do I keep moving forward when I’m missing so much of myself?”

Morgan and Remmy held each other, hands clamped around their arms as tight as death. Morgan thought of all the places where their experience blended together, things they’d done, shitty memories they had in common, thoughts they’d shared. Even with all the awfulness at The Ring, they spent enough time together that Morgan sometimes imagined that conjoined spaces as one bright green field. Even the spot where Remmy brought her into their death was a patch of dandelions and thistle to her, dry and cracked and wild, but still hanging on to something that resembled life. She realized now that she had forgotten how much of Remmy was beyond her reach, not just the weeks they shut her out, but the childhood they’d never discuss, the years in a warzone, as a pawn in some fucked up power struggle bigger than them and everyone they lost. She couldn’t account for what was missing, she’d never see enough of the gaping wounds where Remmy had been blasted to pieces to figure it out.

After a long silence she said, “I think...maybe you have to set your eyes somewhere else. It’s like...the way we learn to feel different, taste different, be different. If you think about what you can’t feel all the time, you kind of go crazy with heartbreak. Or maybe that’s just me. But in any case...you look at what there is, and you look at what else grows. You’re growing new parts, Remmy. They’re not the same by a long shot, but they’re good. We’re mean, lean, regenerating machines!” She laughed feebly and gave them a squeeze. “There is so much here for you, and so much that wants you, Remmy. I think if you limp along enough towards them, you’ll feel as whole as you really are.”

Pain-- physical pain-- was like a distant memory now. But over the past few months, Remmy had come to know another pain-- the pain of absence. Absence of feeling, absence of support, absence of self. And it was strange-- they were things they’d never actually had before. Remmy had only been full of anger as a child and teenager. And then they were taught to shut themself down as a young adult going into the military. And then they were dead. And now they were here, staring at a veteran’s memorial that had their own name carved into it. Someone had brought flowers recently, the bouquet sitting idly by the wall. Remmy watched the leaves rustling in the wind, heard the soft crinkling of the paper they were wrapped in. Let the comfort of Morgan’s body tight against theirs remind them that they were here and they existed. When Morgan broke the silence, they just listened, watching the flowers and looking listlessly at the names on the wall.

“No one remembers me,” Remmy said quietly after a long time. “There’s no one left from who I was before, is there?” They weren’t entirely sure it was Morgan who they were talking to, or if it was the names they’d carved into the stone. The same ones that Luce had carved into their back. “I think-- they deserved better than the life I gave them. The old me. The human me. They deserved better than to die in a war we didn’t even believe in. What part of me still exists if there’s no one left to remember me?”

“Yeah,” Morgan whispered, unfurling an arm so she could comb her fingers through Remmy’s scruff. “They did. Deserve better I mean. They deserved so much more than they got, and it wasn’t fair, what happened to them. But some of them can sleep, and be okay. And the rest… I don’t know, Remmy. It has to be real on its own, doesn’t it? And as long as you keep showing yourself and opening that big, dopey heart of yours to people, won’t there always be someone who knows? It won’t be the same, but… it’s never going to be for us. Not ever.” Her hand fell down to their shoulder and squeezed tight. She shifted in front, looking at them with tear-filled eyes. “You could tell me, if you want. I gotta make it at least to 500. I can try and carry something from Alive-You.”

“But who’s gonna carry them?” Remmy asked, pointing at the wall. “If I let alive-me rest, who’s gonna remember them?” Their voice was wavering now, and it spilled over when Morgan turned to face them, her hand on their shoulder. Not a warm feeling, but a feeling of weight, still offering some sort of comfort even through the haze. “I was just a kid, you know?” they said, something of a nostalgic smile trying to pull its way through the tears. “I was just a kid. They told me I’d never amount to anything, but if I signed up-- if I went into the military-- then my life could mean something. That’s all I ever wanted. I just wanted my life to mean something to someone. It never had and I was so afraid that it never would. And then I just-- I got lost.” They looked at Morgan, wavering. “I still feel so lost. I don’t know who that person was, the old me. I never knew them. They were just whatever everyone told them to be. A bad child, a bad student, a soldier, a warrior, a sacrifice. A lover. And I listened to them. ‘Shut the fuck up, Remmington.’ ‘You’re worthless, Remington.’ ‘Pull the trigger, McAllister’, ‘Do it because I said so’.” They scrubbed and arm across their eye, soaked with tears. “Who was I?” they asked Morgan a bit desperately. “Who was I?”

“You will,” Morgan said gently. “You’ve still got them. You’re not all-gone, Remmy, okay? I can’t prove it to you, but I just know it. Hey--” Her voice cracked as she drew them down to her, forehead to forehead. “Hey, you were great. You were great because you were Remmy. And you must’ve been so lonely, and cared so much to do half the stuff you did. And maybe you were angry and lost, and you probably did some stupid stuff. You didn’t get a fair shake, you didn’t deserve half the shit you took. But you tried really hard to be strong and good. I dare you to tell me I’m wrong about any of that. I dare you…” She sniffled and squeezed them tighter, wishing she were big enough to wrap them away from all their grief, knowing they wouldn’t be Remmy and Morgan at all if she ever did.

Remmy folded into Morgan and let themself cry. They weren’t sure entirely what they were crying for, whether it was to mourn the past version of themself that no one got to know, or for their current self, who was fumbling, lost, in the darkness of a past that wouldn’t let go of them even though they’d died. They burrowed into her, hands gripping so tightly they surely would’ve cracked anyone else’s bones. But that was what they were now-- unbreakable. At least physically. Grief shouldered the two of them like an old friend and wrapped itself up in them as well. “Is it possible to miss someone that you never even knew?” they asked into the crook of her neck.

Morgan let Remmy collapse and fold into her. There weren’t enough hugs in the world to smother out their pain, or enough hands to scoop out their trauma and replace it with something good. All she could do was catch as much of them as she could and hold it tight against her, tighter as the sun dipped beneath the trees, tighter as they sank to their knees, and the birds flew home and the sky bled purple and the memorial emptied and it looked like the whole world had died and would collapse into dust with a stiff wind. And in the awful silence, heavy as the death that clung to them, Morgan told Remmy, “Of course you can. Of course, Remmy. But you’ll figure it out, you’ll be okay. You can, okay? You can… you can…”

#remember you have died #wr remmy #wr chatzy #wr remmy chatzy #ptsd tw #depression tw #wickedswriting

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jehaatiade · 5 years

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Knight in Tarnished Armor

An Ezra x OFC fic

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Violence, blood, description of injuries, drug misuse.

Summary: Ezra makes a new friend under fortuitous but less than fortunate circumstances.

“Eight men,” Ezra mutters to himself as he slogs through the hip-high fronds of ferns heavy with sporangia. “I came to this hellacious veridian globe with eight men. Fourteen days from planetfall, and how many of them are left? Not a one. Just me.”

He kicks a fallen log in passing, trying to vent his frustration. The rotten wood crumbles unsatisfyingly under his boot, and tiny pseudocrustaceans flee for cover as their shelter is destroyed. “Somehow,” he tells the absconding insectoids, “I imagined being the monster to be more gratifying than that.”

He plods on, moving through the small clearing and back into the dense arboraceous embrace of the forest. “No one to blame but myself, I suppose,” he says, continuing his monologue. “I should’ve known better than to sign on with a crew of kips. But they promised me a twenty-percent stake just to teach them how to dig. That could hardly be a herculean task, could it?”

He huffs out a short laugh at his own foolishness, and almost misses the brief crackle of static from his comm. Almost, but not quite. As he fiddles with the modulation settings, the conversation slowly becomes coherent.

“- told you it was a fifty-fifty chance of the cat blowing, and you said hit it!” A woman’s voice, irate, is the first to come through clearly.

“I swear to Kevva, woman, if you don’t fix this then I’m gonna carve you up like an aurelac sac and use your guts for fishing line,” a man growls back at her.

“Oh, fuck you!”

Ezra keys his transmitter, cutting in before the man can reply. “Loath as I am to interrupt a spirited debate, I could not help overhearing your dilemma. It so happens I have some mechanical equipment I am seeking to exchange for supplies.”

“Get the fuck off our channel, floater!” the man yells.

“What is your problem, Pásovec? You’re gonna tell somebody who might have parts we need to get lost just because you’re in a bad mood?” the woman asks. “You’re welcome to join us, friend. We’re at eight-oh-four point fifteen by thirty-seven point twenty-” The number is cut short by a yelp. “What are you doing? Get off me!”

“I have had it with your big fucking mouth,” Pásovec snarls. His statement is quickly followed by a cry from the woman. Ezra’s already at eight-oh-four point one by thirty-six point five; he can make it to their location in under three minutes if he drops his heavy supply-filled pack. “And your bleeding fucking heart!” Pásovec continues. Another cry, this one a short, high scream of pain. “You’re useless to me, and I’m sick of you using up the oxygen I paid for!”

Ezra shoves the pack under the bole of a toppled stump and runs.

The Green has never been more of an adversary than it is now. Vines underfoot grasp at his ankles. Broken branches snatch at his protective suit as he pushes through the trees. Dangling moss leaves protoplasmic ooze in smears across the faceplate of his helmet. Pásovec is muttering in a language Ezra doesn’t understand, but rage needs no translation. Every few breaths, the man’s rant is interspersed with another cry from his victim. Ezra is almost to the site, able to see a small ship through the trees, when her exclamations turn to desperate gasps: “No! No! Get off! No, don’t!”

He skids into the clearing, thrower already drawn, and sizes up what he sees in less than a second: one figure sprawled on the ground, and one figure kneeling on the other’s chest, trying to wrench the other’s helmet from them. He shoots the one on top, and they topple to the side in graceless languor mortis. The violent cacophony over the comms stops abruptly, leaving only the sound of someone hyperventilating.

“Are you all right?” Ezra asks. He holds his position, scanning the clearing for any other crew.

“Y-Yeah.” The woman’s voice belies her claim, shaking like a sapling in a high wind. The figure on the ground starts to leverage themselves into a sitting position, and she grunts with the effort. “You s-saved my life.”

The Green is still, other than the omnipresent dust, with no indication that there’s other living beings within any near distance. Ezra lowers his thrower and starts to approach. “It seemed in my own best interest to assist the individual amenable to trade,” he says as he moves closer.

She gives a sharp bark of laughter, then shudders and makes a noise akin to a sob. “He was gonna kill me,” she gasps. “F-Fuck, I knew he was an asshole but I didn’t th-think he was that crazy.”

“I dare say we have all misjudged someone’s character at some point.” He takes a knee beside the woman, his thrower pistol still in his hand but held casually at his side. She lifts her head to look at him. The inside of her faceplate is smeared with red from a bloody nose that still drips across her lips to trail toward her chin. Beneath the blood, her face is pale. She’s pretty in an angular fashion, especially with those sea-and-sky blue eyes. “Would I be far off the mark to surmise you’d welcome further aid?”

She swallows and shakes her head. “Help me get inside. I’ll make you a- a mutually beneficial proposition, how about that?”

“I do like a bold woman.” Ezra grins, holstering his thrower before he offers his hand to her. “Such a prodigious vocabulary is a marvelous supplement.”

“Oh, fuck you,” she says without malice. She clasps his forearm, and he stands to heave her to her feet. Something in the effort goes awry, alas, and she collapses into his arms with a scream that escapes from gritted teeth. “My knee,” she groans. “I can’t put any weight on it.”

“Don’t fret, now, little bird,” Ezra says, trying to reassure her as he draws her arm over his shoulders. He clasps his arm around her waist, taking as much of her weight as he can. “We’ll have you flying again in no time. Left foot first, now.” Her movement forward on her good leg is more like a hop than a step, but she makes it with only a stifled gasp.

Under mundane circumstances, the walk to the ship’s airlock and the lone step up would be a matter of no more than half a minute. Instead it’s a torturously slow process, punctuated with suppressed sounds of suffering from his new acquaintance. At last, the airlock doors close behind them and the filters begin to cycle.

“You know, you haven’t done me the courtesy of telling me your name,” Ezra says in the dimly red-lit closeness.

She’s still panting from the struggle of motion, and he counts her breaths, reaching four before she answers. “Leda.”

“A fine appellation, heavy with mythology. I myself am Ezra.”

“Ezra,” she repeats. The airlock doors in front of them hiss open, and she gestures forward with a nod of her head. “The med bay’s right there.”

“Then we had best proceed.”

The med bay door opens at a touch of Leda’s hand, and Ezra can’t help but take in the bounty with raised eyebrows. Spotless, sterile, and stocked with enough supplies for years, he can only imagine the amount of aurelac that harvesters would hand over for this level of medical attention. It’s far easier to picture the kind of violence they’d do to get access.

Leda shifts forward when he doesn’t move, listing precariously toward the examination table. Reminded of why he’s here, he helps her put her back to the table and then lifts her bodily to sit on it. She undoes the seals on her helmet, setting it aside, and Ezra follows suit. Free from the confines of the cover, her dark blonde hair just barely brushes her shoulders, and the evidence of her bloody nose is smeared all the way down her throat.

“I’m gonna need your help getting this off.” She pops the pressure seals on her suit, unzipping it down to her belly and shrugging out of the upper half. Underneath, she wears only a white tank top. Ezra notes with appreciation the corded muscles of her shoulders and arms; no mere miner’s mascot, this one. “I can push myself up, and you can pull it over my hips, yeah?”

“A sound plan,” he agrees. He moves closer, unzipping the suit a little more before he grasps the fabric at either side of her waist. “On three?” She nods briskly. He gives the count. On three, she pushes herself up off the cot, creating a few scant measures of space for Ezra to yank her suit down to her thighs. Without being asked, he crouches to remove her boots and free her legs from the heavy tangle. When he looks up, he’s on a level with her knees. He grimaces at the sight; her right knee is already swollen to half again the size of her left, and a dark angry red that heralds catastrophic bruising. “This is bad.”

“No fucking kidding!” she snaps, high and breathless. He raises a single eyebrow and stands once more. “Fuck, I’m sorry. That was uncalled-for.”

He accepts her apology with a nod. “It was hardly the most astute observation I’ve ever made.”

Leda returns his nod before she reaches for an item stored in a case on the wall. He recognizes it when she sets it in her lap: a diagnostor, latest generation, ten leads and a battery life of six months. It’s worth fifty thousand, at least. She unspools the leads from the body of the instrument, placing the unipolar heads on and around her knee gingerly. For the last lead, she pulls up the hem of her shorts to place the head on her inner thigh at her femoral vein.

Ezra catches himself watching and turns away before she looks up, stepping back and starting to remove his own protective suit. The further he undresses, the more he feels out of place; his clothes are grubby and stained, and he stinks of dirt and sweat. One day I’ll have all this, he tells himself, same as he always does when he measures up against the rich and successful and finds himself falling short. One day I’ll have all this, and we’ll see who’s out of place then.

“Hey, would you do me a favor?” Leda’s question pulls him out of his thoughts.

“I suppose that would be contingent upon the specific request.” Ezra tucks his thrower into the waistband of his pants before he steps out of his boots and sets his suit aside. Turning back to face her, he finds himself trying to measure her up. Is this her ship? Her riches? What woman with this kind of money would come to the Green Moon to grub for more?

“There’s gauze in the first drawer on the right over there,” she says, pointing at the cabinets along the wall. “Would you grab a square and get it damp for me? I’d like to clean up.”

He does as she asks, removing the gauze from its packaging and wetting it with water from a squeeze bottle before bringing it over to her. She thanks him, taking it and starting to remove the drying blood from her face. Still in her lap, the diagnostor beeps quietly to itself as it works. “I find myself overcome with curiosity,” Ezra says as he watches Leda methodically wash her jaw and throat. “This breathtaking craft. Is it yours?”

“No, Pásovec’s,” she answers without the hesitation that would betray a lie. “But when I make it out of here, a few thousand in the right pockets will put the registration in my name.” She meets Ezra’s eyes and gives him a wolfish smile. “I knew one way or another, I was making a fortune on this job.”

“Speaking of a fortune, I believe you said something about a mutually beneficial proposition?”

Leda nods and sets the dirty square of gauze aside. “To borrow your turn of phrase in return, would I be far off the mark to surmise you’re out here on your own?”

Ezra crosses his arms, considering his answer before he gives it. Trusting a stranger in the Green is the surest way to get to Kevva quick. But she’s unarmed, unless she wants to hit him over the head with the diagnostor, and he’s sanguine about his odds of outrunning her. “I might be,” he finally allows.

“This isn’t my first time in the Green, handsome. You wouldn’t be looking to trade components for comestibles if you weren’t neck-deep in some form of bad luck.” She raises her brows expectantly.

Ezra sighs and rubs the back of his neck. Caught out by a pretty face. “The crew I came with got themselves killed, to a man, and got our ship blasted beyond use while they were at it. I’ve been looking to barter aurelac for a ride.”

“I’ve got supplies for twelve weeks, enough for me and a partner,” Leda says. He blinks at her, taken aback by her forthrightness. Sharing information on your supplies is akin to hanging a sign around your neck saying This is how much you’ll get if you kill me. “I can pilot, I can repair, and I can harvest. But the way my knee looks, I think it’s going to be a while before I can dig. I don’t want to leave here empty-handed. And as thanks for saving my life, I’m willing to go sixty-forty in your favor on takings before overhead.”

A smile slowly creeps across Ezra’s face. “I suppose it is my deed that has put you in the market for a new partner. Perhaps it would be only equitable to fill the position myself.”

“Shake on it?” Leda asks, holding out her hand. Ezra clasps it and gives her a firm shake. As soon as he releases her, the diagnostor trills to announce the completion of its task. Leda picks it up and starts to read from the screen: “Grade three medial collateral ligament injury. No surgical intervention required, estimated six weeks recovery time. Son of a bitch.”

The last, Ezra presumes, is her own judgement. “What do you need?”

Leda huffs and starts to remove the diagnostor’s leads from her leg. “There should be crutches in that locker,” she says, pointing. “I need to get into the workspace and get the printer started on a brace. That’s going to take a couple of hours.”

“Anything else?” he asks as he retrieves the crutches.

“There’s a cryotherapy unit in the locker two to the left of that one,” she continues. The unit is about the size of a shoebox, but considerably heavier; Ezra tucks it under his arm to carry it and the crutches over to his new partner. Leda sets the unit on the cot and accepts the crutches with a sigh. “And a painkiller shot, in case I fall off these things. First cupboard, bottom shelf, on the right.”

Ezra finds the box of syrettes easily and gives a low, appreciative whistle as he digs one out. “The good stuff. You are exceptionally well-stocked, my friend.”

“When Pásovec hired me, he said to send him a list of supplies. I wasn’t expecting him to buy everything on it. Not exactly an unpleasant surprise, though.” Leda takes the syrette and raises it in a parody of a toast. “Here’s to rich idiots, huh?”

“To rich idiots and the riches they leave behind,” Ezra agrees.

“I like you,” Leda says, and slams the syrette into her thigh with no further ceremony. She gives a groan and rolls her eyes as the medicine dispenses automatically. When the cartridge is empty, she removes it and places it in a sharps bin on the wall. “Okay. I need you to carry this-” She holds out the diagnostor. When Ezra takes it, she taps the case of the cryo-unit beside her. “And this, please.”

“Reduced to menial labor so early in our relationship,” Ezra sighs dramatically as he tucks the unit under his arm again. “This could bode ill for our continued collaboration.”

“Maybe I ought to bat my lashes and say how I find myself in desperate need of a big, strong man,” Leda replies. She shifts forward as Ezra laughs, carefully putting her weight on the crutches. After testing her balance, she moves toward the door, her gait punctuated by the click of the crutches. In the narrow ingress beyond, she turns to the right and limps through another door.

Ezra bites his tongue to keep from whistling again at the workspace. It’s state-of-the-art, more something he’d expect to see in a slick hi-tech zine than in any ship to set landing pads on the Green Moon. In the near corner, a printer large enough to fit a small child in its bay hums quietly to itself. There’s a workbench along the same wall, the space above it taken by shelves of neatly organized bins. Opposite the workbench is a modest kitchen unit, more storage, and a plush-looking L-shaped couch. A sturdy metal table stands in the middle of the room, flanked by plastic-and-steel-tube chairs.

“Do you know how to plug the diagnostor into the printer and tell it to make the recommended brace?” Leda asks, pulling his attention away from the extravagant accommodations.

Ezra eyes the printer. “At a guess, connect the printer’s data input cable to the diagnostor’s cat-six port and hit the big green button?”

“Look at that, beauty and brains.” Leda turns away and starts to click toward the couch. Ezra, in turn, approaches the printer. He’s only just taken the input cable from its slot beside the controls when there’s a thump and a groan behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see Leda slumped on the couch, her injured leg stretched across the cushions. He looks back to his work, but he’s still able to hear her speak, softly enough that he isn’t sure if she’s talking to him or to herself. “I should be more useful. I’m making a bad impression. First day back on the job, my boss breaks my leg and I make friends with the guy who shot him to death. At least I get the ship for my troubles.”

The printer cheerfully beeps confirmation of the design order and whirs to life. Ezra sets the diagnostor down and hefts the cryo-unit before he crosses the room to Leda’s side. “Where do you want this?” he asks.

“Just on the floor is good,” she says, still speaking softly. “I’m sorry, that shot was a lot stronger than I thought it was. I should’ve only done half.”

Ezra chuckles. “Flying high, little bird?” he teases as he pulls the tubing and straps from the unit. Leda sits up with a grunt when he places them in her lap, and starts to wrap the apparatus around her knee. “If you don’t need anything else, I had best head out and retrieve my pack. Won’t take me but a little while.”

“If you want a clean filter, they’re, um-” She gestures vaguely at the storage on the near wall. “Um. Third shelf, on the… left.” Instead of going to grab a filter, Ezra sits on the low metal caf table, watching Leda thread and tighten the straps with the excessive caution of the intoxicated. When she completes the task, he switches on the unit rather than make her lean over to get it. She hisses as the pressure in the tubing increases, the cryo-unit pumping ice-cold gel through the tubes and over her injury. “Thanks.”

“I do happen to have a few inquiries before I go, if you wouldn’t be troubled to resolve them.” Ezra cocks his head and gives a winning smile; Leda glances at him and gives a vague nod before she lays back down. “Now, I would be the first to confess that I rarely lay all my cards on the table in a negotiation, and it is not so much an accusation as a recognition of good business practice when I insinuate you may have done the same.”

Leda only blinks at him. It seems if he wants to take advantage of her brief pharmaceutical-induced vulnerability to interrogate her, he has to pander to her temporarily reduced faculties.

“What haven’t you told me?” he rephrases. “Do you have other crew?”

“No, it was just me and the asshole. He was convinced there was a deposit near here worth hundreds of millions, but he needed somebody to do the prospecting.” She sighs and closes her eyes. “I figured he might try to kill me if I found the deposit, but I didn’t think he’d try before then.”

“What else? You were arguing when I found your channel.”

“The LXH catalyzer is bust,” Leda says, eyes still closed. “I can put something together to replace it, it’ll just take me a few days. I wouldn’t want to try and break high orbit on it, but it’ll get us up to the transport.”

“And the deposit? Do you know where it is?”

Leda shakes her head slowly. “It was Pásovec’s secret. He had a notebook he always kept on him.”

“Anything else? Anyone going to come looking for Pásovec?”

She opens her eyes to blink up at him for a moment before she shakes her head again. “Nobody knew anything. I’m pretty sure he killed the guy who told him about the deposit.”

“I’ll look for that notebook, then,” Ezra says. “You gonna be all right here on your own? Want me to grab you a thrower in case any uninvited visitors drop in?”

“Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. Armory’s over there.” Ezra stands and retrieves a pistol from the locker beside the workbench. When he gives it over to his new partner, she checks the cassette with the swift muscle-memory of a professional. She sets the pistol on her stomach, her hand draped over it with a feigned nonchalance that conceals her readiness to draw. “I might fall asleep before you get back. Just shout when you come in so I don’t shoot you.”

“I will most certainly do that,” he promises.

Leda watches as he moves over to the nearby shelves to search out a new filter. The one currently hooked into his suit is adequate for a few more hours, but being forced to repeatedly purge and re-use the handful of functional filters he salvaged from the destroyed pod has left him with a vexatious persistent cough. A clean filter, fresh out of the packaging, is just what the non-existent physician ordered. “Would you do me another favor?” Leda asks as he starts to comb through the other storage bins to see what else he can find.

“I offer no guarantee but an inquisitive ear.” Ezra delves deeper into one container, digging out a shiny new hunter’s knife with a sheath that should attach nicely to the leg of his suit.

“If you’re going to take care of Pásovec’s body, would you give him a kick in the ribs on my behalf?” The request startles a laugh out of Ezra. “I know he won’t feel it, but it’ll make me feel better.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” he assures her as he shoves the crate back into its place.

“Okay,” Leda says quietly. When he glances over at her, her eyes are closed again and the thrower on her belly rises and falls with her slow, even breaths. “I hope you don’t rob or murder me. You seem nice. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

“There’s no call to impugn my honor, now,” Ezra scolds, no more sincerely than she had spoken. “We shook on the deal, didn’t we?”

She smiles faintly. “You’re right. We did.”

(If you liked this fic, the best way to show it is by sending me prompts and requests! Tagging a few friends: @rzrcrst @tarrevizslas @lannister-slings-and-arrows @pascalisthepunkest )

#ezra #prospect #jehaatific

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angelicspaceprince · 5 years

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Alive

Author: Ama

Title: Alive

Pairing: Beelzebub/Reader, Friendship!Aziraphale/Reader/Crowley mentioned, squint and you’ll miss it Friendship!Aziraphale/Beelzebub/Crowley I guess?

Character/s: Beelzebub, Aziraphale, Crowley, mentions of God.

Word Count: 3, 459 words

Warnings: Mentions of cancer, cancer treatment, a bit about what happens to your body when we die, nightmares, mentions of death. I think that’s it.

Tags: @elyshakate, @trelaney, @corvids-of-the-skeleton-tree

Summary: Beelzebub doesn’t get it. Cancer is not a cold, it’s not temporary, this thing will kill you. But they don’t seem to care and even when you fight to stay alive, it’s not until a certain angel intervenes that they realise what they’ve already lost.

Notes: So, y’all can blame trelaney for this one and me listening to Alive by Sia on repeat for the past hour. We have been talking about Good Omens hcs for a while now and she brought this one up and its been eating at me ever since/I pretty much said yep I’m gonna write a fic about this so everyone can cry. So if y’all are upset with the concept, I’m not to blame. Plot bunnies were provided, I just ran with them.

First time writing Beelzebub, it’s probs OOC, I do not give a shit but don’t come running to me crying ‘this isn’t Beelzebub’, suck it it is now. Beelzebub also uses them/they pronouns. It might not be canon, but it is here.

Buy Me a Coffee

Alive

You were alone when you got told that you needed to go in for further testing, alone when you went for the scans, alone when you got the results. You kept everything hush hush, not wanting any drama or to raise concern when it could be a false positive.

But it wasn’t.

Cancer. Brain cancer. Glioblastoma multiforme to be exact. Pretty advance, the doctors gave you a realistic prognosis of six months, and a hopeful prognosis of twelve months at most. You didn’t cry when you got the news, didn’t cry on the way home, didn’t cry as you cooked and ate dinner alone. You held it in, waiting until the quiet of the night took over and you knew you were truly alone and that’s when the sobs became to rack your body.

You were too young! How could you be given a prognosis of twelve months, at best, at your age? You knew you were going to die one day, but you expected quite a few more decades before it happened.

You didn’t sleep that night, spent most of your time crying and trying to figure out what was going to happen next. You had to tell people, had to plan what was going to happen when eventually treatment stopped working, what you wanted once you died.

You have to tell B.

Being in a relationship with Beelzebub has been hard, but worth it. Some emotions were clear on their face, anger, annoyance, frustration, but others were not, such as love. You knew B loved you, they wouldn’t have spent time with you if they didn’t like you or put up with your human tendencies if they thought you to be beneath them, but sometimes it was hard to gauge if they truly loved you. It was always hard to bring news to them because their emotional reaction would always be a little….off. This was something that you weren’t looking forward to telling your partner.

You told your partner about the doctor’s visit the next morning. Beelzebub always made sure that they had the mornings with you seeing that their nights were rarely free. For the first time ever, you really had hoped that some unexpected hellish business had kept B away from you that morning, you still hadn’t processed the news. Still hadn’t accepted your fate. And even though it was hard, you managed to get the words out.

No reaction.

That’s what hurt you most of all, you think. Beelzebub didn’t even seem to care. Out of all the emotions you could read on Beelzebub’s face, none seem to pass them. You got the tests alone, the results alone, the prognosis alone. But telling B and explaining what the doctors had said? Made you feel the most alone you felt during the entire process.

You started on chemo and radiation, wanting to prolong your life as long as possible. You spoke to Aziraphale about life after death for humans and his answers, although philosophical, did nothing to ease your mind into thinking there was an afterlife for humans where you could continue to be with Beelzebub, if that is what they wanted. B was there every morning to help you with your medication and the subsequent nausea and vomiting that followed. They once asked why you were doing this and appeared confused when you told them it was to length your life. Surely you didn’t want to go through all this torture just for a few more measly months? But still, they continued to help where they could. You asked for them to take time away from hell to be with you, but they refused. You would still be there in the morning, why disrupt business as usual?

You continued to waste away. You become frail and unable to move without assistance. Aziraphale and Crowley are literal God sends during this time. Crowley would always hiss and say he’d talk to the love of your life, but you always asked him not to. It’ll be fine. Beelzebub knows that you’re sick and, they’re right. Why disrupt business as usual for one, insignificant human? Eventually, however, even Beelzebub could see how ill you had become, nothing but skin and bone, being wasted away from the sickness.

Then the seizures started.

The first one was a shock. You were so angry at Beelzebub not being able to understand that you wouldn’t just bounce back from this. No matter how many times you tried to explain it, they just didn’t seem to get it. Suddenly, all the anger of being sick and dying way before your prime and before you could enjoy a long like with the Prince of Hell just exploded from you. You screamed and raved about how this wasn’t a cold or the flu, this was serious. You asked them if they even loved you because it feels like they don’t, you need them right now and they are not there for you. When Beelzebub asked why you were so upset about this when you would just wake up in the morning, healthy as ever, you wanted to scream. Instead, you fried.

You collapsed on the floor as your brain began to overheat, body jerking uncontrollably. For the first time ever, Beelzebub felt out of control. No demonic miracle they tried got you to stop so they decided that, for once, they’d ask for a human’s help. They got you to A&E where you were instantly admitted into the hospital before into a room once they got the seizure under control. Quickly, it was decided that you needed to stay at the hospital and you weren’t going to be able to leave. Beelzebub didn’t leave your side once you were admitted, only once to go back to your place and get some things to make the barren walls seem more like home.

You barely made it to the five-month mark. Towards the end, there was nothing of you left. Seizures continued. They were quick to strike and intermittent. Some lasted for a few moments, most lasted for at least 10 minutes, and some very rare ones lasted for over an hour. They were horrid, your brain felt like it was being fried every single time as B just sat with you. But, as time went on, they became more regular and prolonged. You struggled to maintain your breathing after four days in hospital. It was decided that your airway would remain unassisted. The rattle of your throat unnerved Beelzebub, but they stayed regardless, their hand never leaving yours. They stayed in the room, even when you were being washed but did not assist. The nurses looked unnerved enough at the Prince of Hell’s attire and lack of desire to leave your room or even eat. They played your favourite music and read to you, spoke about things down in hell that was being managed for them. It was as if it was a rare night where Beelzebub could actually take the time to spend with you and you alone. Aziraphale and Crowley visited often, spoke to you as you continued to apparently dream and made sure Beelzebub was ok and asked if they needed a break. They always said no. They’d rather watch you sleep. You looked peaceful when you were like this and Beelzebub could almost convince themselves that you were snoring whenever the rattle could be heard.

It was a rainy Sunday morning when you died. Beelzebub was holding your hand and reading to you a book you never got to finish. When B got to the end of the last page, they could almost hear you sigh as you breathed in, and out, and in, and out, and in, and out.

Nothing.

With a smile, Beelzebub closed the book and put it to the side and waited, hand on yours as it had been the entire time. Seconds pass and concern started to bubble under Beelzebub’s skin. Usually with discorporation, it was instant. You’d be here with a new body and ready to live a new life. Seconds turned to minutes as your body started to cool and Beelzebub’s concern grows to anxiety as they move up towards your body. You should be back by now. The rattling that was once concerning would have been a relief to hear right now. They call your name, beg you to wake up because this isn’t funny anymore as they climb onto the bed, careful of all the wires and tubes so they can try to convince you to just wake up. Even if it was just to scream at you some more, they didn’t mind, they just wanted you to stop pretending and to get out of bed.

That’s how Aziraphale and Crowley found the Prince of Hell. Sitting over your rapidly hardening body as rigor mortis kicked in, confused as to why your eyes were open, yet glassy. They were still begging you to wake up, this isn’t funny anymore, I know you’re mad at me but please just wake up. Neither had heard Beelzebub sound so desperate and confused before, and it had been clear that they had been doing this for hours. Aziraphale is the one who puts two and two together and walks up to the demon.

Crowley goes to get the nurse. You wouldn’t want to be lying there in your own filth, you deserved a more dignified death than that as Aziraphale quickly but quietly got Beelzebub off of your body and off the bed so the nurse could do their jobs in peace. B still looked at your corpse confused, now pale as the blood settles on the lower half of your body. You’d never looked so sick in your life, but this isn’t right. You should be awake by now.

That’s when Aziraphale breaks it to him. Humans, when they die, they aren’t like demons or angels. When they die, they are gone for good. Its like a sleep, apparently, that lasts forever unless you were in good favour with God. And being with a demon most definitely removed your changes of that.

The news takes a second to sink into Beelzebub’s brain before everything starts making sense. Why you wanted them to spend more time with you, the frustration of when they refused to break their schedule for you, and when they just didn’t seem to understand that this was serious and terrifying for you. Discorporation is scary for anyone who hadn’t experienced it. But you’d be back. Surely.

It’s not until the nurses arrive to clean your body that Beelzebub moves. The nurse goes to start with your face and the Prince of Hell just screams as emotions they didn’t even know they had crashed over them. They screamed at them to not touch you, that you weren’t dead and you’ll be ok, just wake up, please wake up. They are sorry, just please, for the love of all things unholy, open your fucking eyes. Nurses, doctors and security had to rush in to pull the Prince from your body as the nurses fought back to make sure you weren’t injured in the fight. Beelzebub claws at everyone who touches them, almost attempting to swim past everyone to get to you as they are thrown out and into the family room with a nurse to try and console them. You’re in a better place now, God will take care of you, you are at peace. Beelzebub just rocks and cries because of all the things they will miss that they didn’t even realise that they would miss. Seeing you wake up and being groggy before lighting up when you see them, holding your hand, kissing you, making a plate for them even though you both know full well that you’ll end up snatching most of it from their plate. Never have you listen to them rant and offer advice that only a human could provide or listen to you rant after a particularly hard day. Never see your face whenever you see something that excites you, never hear your laugh, never be held in your arms or hold you in theirs ever again? Never be able to tell you that they love you.

It felt like all the oxygen had left Beelzebub’s body and no matter what they did, they couldn’t get enough in their lungs. They never told you that they loved you, they always assumed they had time for that. Now they’d never get that chance again. Darkness seems to crowd in from the corner of their eyes as a truly desperate and primal wail finally makes its way out of B’s mouth and fills the halls of the ward before they promptly pass out.

~~~~~

Beelzebub wakes up with a gasp. Not in the hospital, the chemical smell no longer burning their nose. They are back home, in your bed. The demon rubs their face with a relieved smile before they turn to make sure you were alright.

No.

You’re not there.

The sheets are cool and there is no evidence of you sleeping there. Beelzebub can feel the oxygen slowly being sucked out of their body again when the panic sets in again. Are you dead? What’s happened?

A flush followed by three loud crashes and a string of swears in the dark lets them know what’s going on and they rush from the bed straight into the kitchen to see you, still pale and looking permanently tired, but alive standing in front of them, checking over your foot. B can’t help it. They crash right into your arms and hold you as close as physically possible, breathing in your scent deeply to centre themselves. It’s ok. You’re alive.

“Whoa, hey there.” B could hear the smile in your voice. “You ok?” Beelzebub doesn’t trust their voice, so they just nod. “B? Are you crying?” The smile turns to concern as the Prince pulls you in closer. You start to rub their back as you sway in the kitchen. “The dream again?”

“Yes.” Their voice croaks, they sound broken. Exhausted. You sigh as you pull back and make sure that you can make eye contact with your partner. The unshed tears that they are clearly fighting back break your heart as you swipe your thumb underneath their eyes as you cup their face in a silent attempt to calm them.

“It’s ok dearest. I’m ok. You’re ok. Do you remember what happened?” It takes a second for Beelzebub to nod as the memories come flooding back.

You did have an argument and you did have a seizure before it concluded. Beelzebub did think that you would just return in a new body ready to go. But Beelzebub got you to the hospital quicker. You came out of the seizure quicker. You ended up in a coma and in the hospital for a week. B didn’t leave the hospital for that entire time and they did read to you and play music and talk. That’s when Aziraphale told Beelzebub what happens to humans after death. That’s when the penny dropped and, for the first time in a week, Beelzebub stepped outside.

Beelzebub got on their knees and begged for God to spare you, just for a while longer. A miraculous healing, that’s all you needed. No matter how much Beelzebub tried, no miracle of theirs could save you and God did not help in anyway. When Beelzebub came back, a day later, your prognosis did not look good. They took you off air support. They suspected you had 48 hours at most. That dreaded rattle could be heard before B could even walk in the room.

Aziraphale suggested that, perhaps, between the three of them they could save you. Somehow, it worked. The cancer was gone, and you woke up to a crying and relieved Beelzebub six hours later, to the amazement to all the staff involved. B just climbed onto the bed and kissed you and kissed you and kissed you, apologising between each kiss and saying that they loved you, so, so much whenever you both pulled away for long enough for them to get the words out. You were still incredibly sick, even a year on there have been complications. It took a while for you to be able to walk without assistance, for your weight to return and for you to be able to concentrate for a full hour – or even just be conscious for three hours – and not need a nap. You came home six months after you first were admitted into the hospital. Beelzebub made a point, from then on, to be home as often as possible. Hellish business could be conducted anywhere, so B worked from home in the same office you now do. Beelzebub, although still not in tune with their emotions, had become more affectionate and initiated the affection more often than before. The Prince even began to learn the value of sleep and loved to spend the night with you holding each other.

The nightmares came about a month after you came home. You needed to spend the night at the hospital after you found out you needed some exploratory surgery done. Beelzebub woke up with a fright, convinced you were dead until they went to go pick you up the next morning. If you disappeared from the bed for too long, the nightmares would start up again. A side effect of the cancer has left you forgetful, and some nights when you wake up and just need to pee or eat or drink something, you forget that being away caused Beelzebub distress like this. But you work on it.

Another side effect, as you both found out one day that Beelzebub is sure nearly brought them to discorporate, is that you can’t die. Turns out, the angel and the demons did their job a little too well. Although you have gotten better and parts of you have changed, you haven’t aged a day. When you didn’t see where you were walking and got hit by a car, Beelzebub felt their world end again for a brief second before you stood up, amazingly unharmed, and began to apologise to the driver for not watching where you were going. The relief hit Beelzebub hard, before realising that you were going to be with them forever. The joy that wracked their system is something that Beelzebub has not felt since but enjoyed every moment of it.

Right now, however, Beelzebub did not feel joy. Some relief, yes, but mostly residue panic from the constant nightmare that they had been having. Somehow, you managed to coax them onto the bed and pulled them in tight against you so they could have some comfort.

“Feel better?” B makes an uncommitted noise that you take to mean as ‘yes’. “Good. I’m sorry I forgot again. I’ll try to remember to read the sticky notes next time.” You can feel their scoff against your chest as you roll your eyes. “I love you though. I’m not going anywhere for a long time.”

“Please don’t.” Their voice still sounds broken but comforted in the knowledge that you were okay.

“I won’t, precious.” You smile as they make eye contact with you and a rare smile graces their face.

“I’m sorry I was a bad partner.” You roll your eyes.

“B, you weren’t a bad partner, you just didn’t understand, and I didn’t think to explain it at the time. It’s okay. We’ve worked past it.” The noise B makes this time makes you think they don’t believe you, so you jostle them slightly so you can both lay down together, you stroking their back as they make small buzzing noises of content, both of you slowly beginning to drift away.

“Love you.” You smile as B’s quiet voice fills your ears right before they fall asleep.

“Love you too.” B’s hum lets you know they heard it just as you close your eyes and let your sleep take you away.

You were alone when you had the tests, got the results, and the prognosis. You felt alone as you battled for a few months more to live with your love. You drifted alone in a dream state for a week before two demons and an angel brought you back, better than before. After a journey of feeling so alone, it was moments like these that made you feel so loved because you knew Beelzebub loved you, loves you and will forever love you, as you will forever love them. Even as you drift in your sea of unconsciousness, there is one thing that you feel now that you hadn’t felt for a long time after your diagnosis.

Alive.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #beelzebub #ama writes #reader insert #beelzebub x reader #beelzebub/reader #beelzebub x reader fanfiction #beelzebub/reader fanfiction #beelzebub uses them they pronouns #fanfiction #fanfic #good omens fanfic #go #go fanfiction #go fanfic

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amphtaminedreams · 5 years

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To All the Characters I’ve Overly Identified with Before: Borderline Personality Disorder and Attachment to Fictional Characters

It’s been a month, and I’m still not over how Game of Thrones ended. I’m still not over the way that a character who, throughout the previous seventy something episodes of the show, was only ever ruthless towards people who were deserving of her wrath (within the context of westerosi justice because let’s not forget everyone’s favourite man of honour Ned Stark decapitated a young man for running for his life in the first episode), suddenly massacred a whole city in the penultimate episode. I’m not over the way that writers who spent the previous seasons showing that they were capable of translating the moral ambiguity of George R.R Martin’s characters from page to screen, got lazy and left us with a character whose actions became impossible to defend right as the show was ending. I’m not over the way that such a beautifully complex character who endured so much hurt and trauma was reduced to nothing more than a “crazy woman” by a couple of male writers in her final moments. I’m not over the fact that Emilia Clarke put her heart and soul into the character and did everything she could to bring Daenerys Targaryen to life for David Benioff and Dan Weiss to both literally and figuratively assassinate her.

I think those feels have been felt by a lot of Game of Thrones fans since the show ended. God knows I’ve watched enough youtube video essays and read enough articles and liked enough tweets reiterating the sentiment. Daenerys Targaryen was, in my opinion, the best character on Game of Thrones. I wasn’t angry because she didn’t end up sitting on the throne (though my boy Drogon made sure nobody else ever would either and I guess I can get behind that), I was angry because all the balance that made her character so great was thrown out the window in order to progress the story of her male counterpart and bring a show that probably could’ve done with another 2 seasons to an end. Dany has always had a dark side, she is the “fire” that the title of the book series refers to, but throughout the show, we’ve never seen her indulge that side to the point of no return. We’ve seen her wrestle with it and use it to exact punishment on those who deserve it when needs be, and that was part of what I liked about her. Not to go all feminist essay on anyone’s ass but we don’t usually get to see women in TV who are celebrated for their powers of intimidation, and I liked how prior to season 8, the narrative never made female characters like Dany or Arya or Brienne out to be monsters for killing people the same way that basically every single man on the show did at one point or another. I liked that sometimes she was a little excessive because it made sense, she did have “dragon” in her, and she still had lines she wouldn’t cross, clear values and principles; she fought for the innocent, for women and for children, and for freedom. On a personal level, I loved her because we watched her go from a lonely, scared and vulnerable girl to a strong, ambitious and self-assured woman and that was a trajectory I wanted to relate to.

And then all of a sudden, without any justification or build up at all, she’s a mass murderer of the same “downtrodden” people she always claimed to fight for. Fuck, I’m thinking. I literally watched that episode through my hands because I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. When I say I cried on and off for about 3 days after I watched the final episode, I’m not exaggerating; I only need to see a screen cap now a month later or an interview with Emilia Clarke and I’m off again. It literally felt as if I was mourning the loss of a real person. But this isn’t the first time I’ve had this kind of attachment to a character. Daenerys Targaryen was probably just the last in a long list of women I overly identified with.

I’m not much like her at all really, I’ve burnt myself from taking the film off my microwaved lasagne and not moving my thumb away from the hot air in time (lmao), however, I think I saw parts of myself in her journey and traits that I wanted to have, thus, I latched on. Before Daenerys Targaryen there was Spencer Hastings and before her there was Cassie Ainsworth and then if we’re gonna throw it all the way back, there was Hermione Granger (and some other characters I was more mildly obsessed with along the way, Katniss Everdeen, Bree Van de Kamp and Cosima Niehaus, I’m looking at you). I still love all those characters now but when their respective shows or films were actually current, I was completely obsessed. I spent my 16th birthday at the Harry Potter studios on the outskirts of London with my family, forget birthday parties or meals out with my friends. I wished more than anything that I had 2 best friends that loved me unconditionally and I did my best to emulate that drive and intelligence and work ethic everyone associates with Hermione. I told myself I was just like her even though I lacked the confidence to put my hand up in all but one of my classes and last time I checked, was just trying to conquer GCSEs not fight an evil wizard snaked hybrid man or whatever Voldemort is. I identified with the loneliness and the need for control that I saw in Cassie, and was like “oH eM GeE, tHat’s sO mE!” at Spencer’s perfectionism. When I was speeding for my exams (and then, unfortunately, for long after), I felt spiritually connected to that whole Pretty Little Liars arc where Spencer started popping adderall on the daily even though I could really only wish for someone to care about me enough to stalk me like A did and the worst possible outcome of my all nighter was not taking in enough content to bullshit my way through a 30 marker.

They would understand me, they would be my friend. They represent me. That was the baseline sentiment of my obsession. And I think that’s the borderline part of me jumping out. See, such a huge part of BPD is feeling unwanted and misunderstood and forgettable and really, deeply lonely. Like it’s a kind of loneliness I think you feel like an actual person can never really fulfil because the (faulty and not necessarily reflective of reality) thought pattern is that they’ll lose interest and leave you sooner or later. Fictional characters are always there, until the show gets cancelled or the character gets killed off, at least, and then comes the completely disproportionate tidal wave of grief. They exist in a different world too, a one that feels a lot less dangerous (even if it’s actually way more dangerous, I mean I really wouldn’t last five fucking minutes in Westeros) and detached from the often chronically muted reality of BPD.

Then there’s the trouble with the sense of self, part and package of BPD for most, which facilitates, you know, thinking that a genius witch or, like, any character in skins (because in hindsight as great as that show was, WHY DO NONE OF THEM HAVE JOBS YET SEEMINGLY AN ENDLESS SUPPLY OF DRUGS AND PARENTS THAT NEVER SEEM TO CARE WHERE THE HELL THEY ARE!?) resembles you as a person in any way. Though I suppose I’m learning recently as I begin to reflect more on what I enjoy and value, I’ve never had much more than a vague idea of what my positive qualities are, so when I saw them fully realised in a character it was a treasure trove of mannerisms and traits and ways of carrying oneself to adopt. It becomes a mould into which you can squeeze the ball of meh-ness and uncertainty you feel you resemble. Now I’m realising that although it might take me a little more time and a lot more effort, it’s much more rewarding to become the very best version of myself, but back then, I suppose I didn’t recognise why I was doing what I was doing.

I only got diagnosed with BPD and started learning about it when it was 19, so all the years before that were pretty much spent unaware of the reasons why I had these quirks. As I “recover” (I suppose that’s the right word) and I get back into hobbies and spend more time with friends, I feel like I’m beginning to discover more and more of who I am. I’m starting to accept that there are positive things about me and plenty of things for people to like, right here in this world, not some fictional one.

I still love characters way too much and get overly attached and invested in TV shows but even that doesn’t necessarily have to be something to be ashamed of. When I’ve got into *ahem* discussions with people online about characters before, I’ve occasionally gotten the “why do you care so much, it’s not real life!” in response, and I mean, there’s definitely a point to be made if your passion for something is causing you to lash out at real life people with real life feelings. But when you’re not, when it can give you hours of discussion and entertainment and can drive you to make real positive changes in the world too, what’s wrong with passion? There’s nothing I love more than having a conversation with someone who I can tell really loves what they’re talking about, so why should I be ashamed of having the capacity to become deeply invested in things too? I think as long as it’s not taking over my life as I have allowed it to do so in the past, there’s nothing wrong with having passion for fictional things or for anything, for that matter. As long as it’s not something fucked up, like idk, white supremacy or Rick and Morty (JOKING).

I don’t regret loving all the things I loved because being a huge Harry Potter fan for so many years did give me an escape when I absolutely hated myself and couldn’t find much enjoyment in real life. I hope that if I do have children one day, they’ll love it too, maybe not quite as much as I did but enough for it to give them all the joy it gave me, all the same. So in summary, yeah, fuck David Benioff and Dan Weiss (lmao, I’m joking, they’re just shitty original screenplay writers who could probably do with a class or two on how to write female characters), but also, understand before you make fun of someone for being overly invested in something that there’s probably a good reason for it and that, at the end of the day, they’re usually not hurting anyone. I’ll probably still be stanning Daenerys Targaryen and pretending season 8 episode 5 didn’t happen until the day I die. Let me live, okay?

Lauren x

#bpd #harry potter #Hermione granger #Emma watson #cassie ainsworth #skins #gameofthrones #got #antigot #DaenerysTargaryen #daenerys targaryen #emilia clarke

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heartbxnd-blog · 5 years

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Writober Day 2- Haunted house

Haunted grounds.

“And no one will come looking for you in the next day.”

The month has barely started, and there already are fools flocking to those doomed buildings.

Whitney, Clair and even Bugsy have reported sightings of groups of young trainers heading into them in the previous nights. As expected they weren’t found the next morning, they vanished just like that- yet that didn’t seem to bother anyone in that room.

At least 15 trainers have gone missing in the past few days.

No one even mentioned the possibility of informing the police, start a search- nothing came out of it.

It’s only natural for them at this point.

They know that those who come seeking out these places, are outsiders- probably from Sinnnoh, Kanto, Hoenn- it didn’t matter to them.

All of the gym leaders remained there, in silence- with the same unfazed expression and empty gaze on them.

Nothing about it touched them.

______________________________________________________________

Morty knew it would only be a matter of time, until they came looking for his city’s doomed zones.

It’s the desire to look for an adventure, to prove their supposed independence- this is what drives them to come here.

Despite all the warnings the gym leader gave them, the group of 5 teenagers went in anyway. Everyone was bantering, laughing and even poking fun at Morty’s attempt to stop them- the ruins of this temple was nothing more than just a simple thrill ride for them- in their eyes.

Once the kids had wandered into the building, Morty was ready to head back to the city- his job here is done. There is nothing else that could be done here- except he didn’t leave.

The temple was huge- it stood out from all the others in Ecruteak city, because it had been built horizontally- it wasn’t a building like the Bell tower. Rather there was this enormous wall shielding the temple itself- the only way to see it would be an upperview- from the sky or walking through the gate.

But that would be just a death sentence.

In Morty’s eyes this was nothing but a mouse trap, and just like any other good johtonian- he has never had any interest in going through those gates. But that didn’t mean, he hadn’t had any kind of curiosity fro what the inside might be like.

At last, he found one good thing to come out of this dreaded month thanks to his clairvoyance becoming stronger- more powerful he can see through those people’s eyes without any drawbacks.

As such- just like a rat that knows best, he will simply walk around the trap. Examining those who fall for it from the safe distance.

So far the 5 of them seem to be doing alright, they’re all together- still keeping the positive attitude up.

Upon returning to himself, Morty has the idea to take a look at the wall- to follow it. See if there is anything on the other side.

This way he can use his powers to keep up with what is going on inside, all while admiring the outside. He pointed his flashlight at the wall- and he was greeted with the sight of an odd kind of pattern for it, spirals- countless of them as well- and they all seemed to have been hand painted as well.

This was the first prickling sensation that something most definetely wasn’t right about here, usually the walls from these sorts of buildings were left blank or with just a coat of paint- patterns weren’t really used to decorate them.

Regardless of it, Morty started to walk- closely following the wall made out of stones. Checking in on the teens from time to time.

______________________________________________________________

During this walk, he realised how nature had reclaimed this area- most definetely left untouched for a long time on top of how the wall’s structure seemed to be completely intact- in perfect conditions. That odd spiral pattern was still present on it- besides those things, the area was extremely quiet. Morty could tell how there wasn’t a single critter around.

If that wasn’t enough, he had lost notion of time- how long has he been walking so far?

It might be the perfect time to check on the teens.

There is 4 of them, the upbeat attitude seemed to have been replaced with distress and an arguing between the trainers- as they had no clue where their missing friend must be.

Might as well continue walking.

______________________________________________________________

This wall... There is no end to it, is there?

The gym leader thought to himself, as he kept up with the same walking pace- but the effect of walking for hours non stop was starting to take its tolls on him.

Yet he found himself unable to just head back, or call out any of his pokemon to assist in the process.

No- if he did that, he felt like he would simply end up getting lost.

It was like he was walking inside of a labyrinth- one in the shape of a spiral. It all felt the same, and that he wasn’t getting anywhere.

Despite that, his mind told him to just keep going- maybe he is getting close to the other side of it.

Turning back now will just undo everything.

And so he kept pressing forward.

______________________________________________________________

3... There are 3 teens, it seemed like panic was starting to settle in the group. Only now, they were starting to regret coming here.

Oddly enough- Morty wasn’t sharing that sensation, sure he may be getting tired- but at the same time. There was no regret in starting this little venture.

Another interesting thing is that- he wasn’t really concerned about the trainers in there, why would he? They are all a lost cause anyway.

Meanwhile, for some weird reason- he couldn’t help but start thinking of his parents. Why? What’s all about this- that could be possibly reminding him about them? It always brought him pain, whenever they came to his mind- but not in this case.

It felt comforting- nostalgic even.

______________________________________________________________

They are down to only 2 now, something is definetely picking them one by one- and is toying with them.

Despite accompanying it all with his clairvoyance, it was near impossible to see anything in there- even with their flashlights. That darkness seemed to absorb any and all light.

The end should be near.

______________________________________________________________

Only 1 remains and they are crying, praying to any God for their help- but also crying for their parents. It was pitiful.

The end should be near- the gym leader looked up, and yes- finally a sign that he is approaching the other side. Might as well check in the kid one final time.

... There was nothing in his range, that he could hijack the sight of.

Just in time for him to finally get to the other gate, which was built similarly to the entrance. But the doors were shut- there is no way someone could open from the outside, it may seem like he did all of this for nothing.

If it weren’t for the door lock’s hole, which was the perfect size for someone to take a peek through. It looked inviting- felt like it was beckoning the man to approach it, and fulfill his curiosity.

A sensation that was impossible to fight against- what with his current fatigue. As such it didn’t take long at all for Morty to approach the door, crouch down slightly- and lean forward in order to take a peek at what might be at the other side.

To his utter shock, he was seeing a familiar setting- it was his parents home’s living room and fair enough there they were. In the same exact way Morty remembers of them.

There was no fear, no dread- just an overflowing soothing and comforting sensations.

And for the rat, that didn’t intervene- the ultimate reward.

#my drabbles #Writober2k19 #writober2k19entry #long post tw #OOF yet another one that got big #yall better appreciate dammit #death mention tw #Now let's see who gets the easter eggs right =D it shouldn't be too difficult

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rolltidewrestlingfan4life · 5 years

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December 31, 1952 - January 1, 1953 (7:00 p.m. - 7:00 a.m.)

Charles Carr parked the Cadillac in front of the front of the Andrew Johnson Hotel in Knoxville, Tennessee at 7:00 p.m. He went inside and got a room for himself and Hank Williams. All the downtime from waiting for the flight earlier that day gave Hank plenty of time to finish off the bottle of whiskey he had bought from the bootlegger in Fort Payne earlier that day, the effects of which were starting to show.

Carr told the bell captain that he was going to need some special assistance. He had a sick man in his car who would need help getting up to the room. Two porters were sent to assist Hank, who had been drinking on and off all day. They carried him up to the room, later stating that he was obviously intoxicated. One of them, a man named Emmanuel Martin, recalled that Hank was "Very much alive. I talked to him coming in, and I remember he made one little statement, 'When you drink like this, this is the price you gotta pay.'"

The porters laid Hank on the bed. Carr gave them a nice tip and asked them to park the car and take care of the luggage. He then ordered two steak dinners from room service. By the time they arrived, the porters were bringing their luggage into the room. Hank had developed a case of hiccups that seemed to be sending his body into mild convulsions. He only took a few bites of his steak before passing out, eventually rolling off of the bed and falling onto the floor.

His concern for Hank’s health growing, Carr placed a call to Hank’s mother in Montgomery. He explained the situation and asked her what he should do. She got in touch with Hank’s doctor, Toby Marshall, who called Carr and instructed him to have the front desk summon a doctor.

In a short time, Dr. Paul H. Cardwell, a middle aged Knoxville physician, arrived at their room. He noticed some capsules on the nightstand next to Hank’s bed, but didn't ask any questions. Apparently, acting on Marshall's instructions, Cardwell administered two injections: one of vitamin B12 and another of B6, each containing one-quarter grain of Morphine. Cardwell only stayed a few minutes, he declared Hank fit for travel and went on his way. He would later tell investigators that Hank was very drunk and about the capsules on the nightstand, but didn't know what they were or how many he might have taken.

At some point during the three hours and forty-four minutes they spent at the Andrew Johnson Hotel, Charles Carr spoke with promoter A.V. Bamford to let him know what had happened and why they did not make it to the show in Charleston. Bamford told Carr to depart Knoxville immediately for Canton, Ohio to make sure they made it in time for the matinee New Years Day show at 2:00 p.m. Hank’s contract carried a $1,000 default penalty, meaning that he would have to pay that amount of money for every show he missed. More than four thousand tickets had been sold for the show in Canton at $2.50 each. Bamford knew that if Hank failed to show, or showed up drunk, he would have a lawsuit on his hands from the local promoter, LCL Productions.

Around 10:30 p.m., Carr called down to the front desk and asked that the porters come up to the room to help get Hank and their luggage back down to the Cadillac. They returned to the room and picked up Hank, one holding him under his arms and the other holding his legs. They said later that Hank felt limber and that he didn't move. It was difficult for all four men to fit into the elevator and the porters found it necessary to bend Hank's body at the waist. While in this position, as they traveled downward in the elevator, according to the porters later testimony, Hank made a "gurgling sound" as well as a "wheezing or cough-like sound" twice, but that he never spoke or moved at all as they carried him out.

Toby Marshall later testified that he and the assistant manager of the Andrew Johnson Hotel, Dan McCrary, arranged for a relief driver seeing as Carr had been driving since early that morning, but Carr always denied this happened.

Hank was laid in the back seat of his car with his hands draped across his chest in a "V". The porters covered him with a blanket and his navy blue overcoat. Charles Carr drove out Knoxville around 10:45 p.m. headed northeast on Highway 11.

The weather was bad, a mixture of sleet and snow slowed travel to a crawl. An hour later and just twenty miles outside of Knoxville, Carr was passing through Blaine, Tennessee when he attempted to pass a bus. He almost hit a police cruiser head on as he crossed over into the oncoming lane. Driving that police cruiser was Corporal Swan H. Kitts. He hit his lights and made a u-turn, chased the Cadillac down and pulled it over.

Officer Kitts approached the Cadillac and shined his flashlight into the back seat where he could see someone lying down. His uncovered head was on the other side of the car from the drivers side. Kitts would later testify that he saw a lifeless-looking man, pale and blue looking with his collar and hat covering his face, slumped across the backseat, seemingly asleep.

He asked Carr if there was anything wrong with his passenger. Carr replied "No, he's been drinking and the doctor gave him a sedative to make him sleep." Carr seemed unconcerned, as if it were an everyday situation. Kitts wasn't convinced. "He looks like he might be dead," Kitts said to Carr. Carr assured Kitts that he wasn't but Kitts had his doubts.

Carr explained to the Corporal who his passenger was and that he was driving him to an engagement in Ohio and could not afford to be late. Officer Kitts decided not to disturb Hank but had Carr follow him into Rutledge, Tennessee.

At 12:30 a.m. on January 1, 1953, he was written a ticket for reckless driving. He was tried before Justice of the Peace Olin H. Marshall, at his home. Marshall asked Carr how much money he had on him, Carr told him $75.00 and that is what the fine turned out to be. Carr paid the fine and briefly explained the events of that day and evening to the officers. Kitts mentioned the passenger sleeping in the backseat of the car in the presence of Marshall and Sheriff J.N. Antrican, and both of them would recall that Carr seemed nervous, but again requested that Hank not be disturbed.

It was now somewhere around 1 a.m. 1953 had arrived in the midst of this bizarre interlude. Carr got back in the Cadillac and continued on Highway 11, passing through Bristol on the Tennessee-Virginia border roughly an hour and a half later. He continued north out of Bristol, picking up Highway 19 which carried them through the Clinch Mountain region of Virginia and into southern West Virginia.

At this point, Charles had been awake since they left Birmingham early that morning and it was now somewhere in the neighborhood of 3:00 a.m. He pulled into a gas station and asked the attendant where he might find a driver. He was directed him to the Doughboy Lunch Restaurant. He pulled the Cadillac into the all-night diner, deciding it was probably a good idea to get some coffee, maybe something to eat as well.

It was here that Charles Carr would claim he spoke to Hank for the last time. Once they parked, he said Hank got out of the car to stretch. He then asked Hank if he wanted something to eat to which he replied with what are believed to be his last words, "No, I just want to get some sleep." While this is possible, it seems entirely inconsistent with Hank’s condition just two hours earlier in Knoxville.

Physically and mentally exhausted, Carr entered the diner and found a cab driver who had just finished his shift, a 37 year old man by the name of Donald Surface. He agreed to drive them the rest of the way in exchange for an undisclosed amount of money and bus fair back home. Carr maintained that he and Surface stopped for a sandwich and beer in Princeton, West Virginia, and that he paid Surface and dropped him off at some point in West Virginia. Surface died in April 1965 without ever being interviewed, so his side of the story was never told, but newspaper and police reports place him at the wheel as the car neared Oak Hill, West Virginia, around 6:30 a.m. on January 1, 1953.

Regardless of who was at the wheel, the Cadillac next pulled into the parking lot of the Skyline Drive-In, a simple, cinder block restaurant on the roadside of Highway 16 in Hilltop, West Virginia. Carr looked into the backseat to check on Hank. He was lying in the back seat with his hands draped across his chest in a "V". Just the way the porters at the Andrew Johnson Hotel had placed him almost seven hours earlier.

The navy blue overcoat that had been covering Hank had fallen off of him. When Charles reached back and pulled it up over his body, his hand inadvertently touched Hank's, and it was cold and offered "unnatural resistance" as Carr would put it. He attempted to wake Hank, but got no response.

He went inside the restaurant, where he remembered seeing a potbellied stove in the corner. A man in his mid-50's walked out with Charles, took a look into the backseat, and upon seeing Hank said, "I think you've got a problem." The man advised Carr that the hospital was a couple of miles up Highway 16. Carr and Surface got back in the Cadillac and headed north.

Driving just two miles, they arrived in the small town of Oak Hill. The first thing they encountered was Burdette's Pure Oil 24-Hour Service Station. Surface stopped the car across the street from the station and Carr went inside to ask for directions to the hospital.

The service station attendant called the police and within a few minutes, officer Howard Janney arrived on the scene. He was directed to the Cadillac across the street where he opened the door and took a look at Hank lying in the backseat, confirming that he was in fact dead. Janney later told researcher Brian Turpen that Hank was still lukewarm to the touch, but that rigor mortis had set in on the arm. He then ordered Carr to follow him over to the hospital just one block away.

They pulled up to the back of the hospital, which served as the emergency entrance, where two interns came out to the car. They opened the doors, leaned inside, and confirmed to Carr that Hank Williams was dead. Carr, no doubt in a state of shock, asked if there was anything they could do for him, to which one of the interns flatly replied, "No, he's just dead." They asked Charles if he would like to take his jewelry, a ring and his watch which he did and later turned over to the county Sheriff.

The interns removed Hanks body from the back of the Cadillac, placed him on a stretcher and pushed him inside the hospital. He was pronounced "dead on arrival" at 7:00 AM January 1, 1953 by Dr. Diego Nunnari, who concluded from the state of rigor mortis and the temperature of the body, that Hank’s death could have possibly occurred two to four hours earlier, but stated he was unable to determine an exact time of death.

@enigmaticandunstable

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iamapoopmuffin · 5 years

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Victims With Numbers

Fandom: Nanbaka/Corpse Party (crossover) Genre: Horror Characters: Hajime Sugoroku, Samon Gokuu, Kiji Mitsuba, Kenshirou Yozakura, Jyugo, Uno, Nico, Rock, Tsukumo, Liang, Upa, Qi, Honey, Trois, Musashi, Sachiko Shinozaki, Ryou Yoshizawa, Yuki Kanno, Tokiko Tsuji, Yoshikazu Yanagihori, Yoshie Shinozaki, Takamine Yanagihori, some OCs to take the role of Kizami later on instead of actual Kizami Includes major character death.

Chapter 14 of ?

Liang and Keiko had found their way back to the bathroom. The one taped shut with the charms that seared flesh. There had been no further sign of the ghost child, nor of the spirit that had saved Liang before. It truly seemed as if it were just the two of them in that building, though he was sure he could hear footsteps now and then. They'd found little to do, beyond circling the building a few times, trying to find something that might be of use. A way to open the main doors, a clue to where the others may have gone, just anything. At first, the only new thing Liang could note was that someone had scrawled over a flyer stuck to the wall. Before, the flyer had been uninteresting. A bake sale advertisement from before Heavenly Host closed its gates. When they passed the flyer for maybe the third time, it had blood on it. Not in splatters or drops either, no spray or lean. It hadn't just gotten there by mistake. No no, something was written there, scrawled in sloppy and shaky Chinese. Smeared in unsteady blood letters with several jittery mistakes, parts of the lettering reversed, trails where the writer's hand weakened and fell from the paper, and points where the letters went over the edge of the paper and onto the wall instead.

ART ROOM

2 1 7 1 4

111111111KNIIIIIII

DO T R S H OL E R TH

H E L P

It was most likely from the spirit from before. A message to someone, to tell them to meet in the art classroom, just as the spirit had told him verbally, as well as something indeterminable.

Perhaps this message was written for the lost little girl to find.

Perhaps there was someone else here he was supposed to meet with.

Perhaps it was something the man wrote before he died, and the message was never even meant for Liang.

But that begged the question of how many people would actually be here expecting to communicate with their friends in Chinese. From what he could tell, the majority of people trapped here were from Japan, which made sense. The building itself had been Japanese, and the story, the legend of the school and of the deaths was one circulated in Japan. So it must have been meant at the very least for a Chinese speaker. The next question was what did the numbers mean? If the writer was from Nanba, it made sense for him to signal to specific people with numbers, but the numbers used didn't specify any of the inmates, except for maybe Qi and himself. More than anything, that was unnerving. The jumble of 1's and unfinished hanzi only complicated the message further. Something the spirit, possibly, tried to write with the last of his strength, making it an important message, but one that he could not fully tell.

Shortly after this, Keiko's sharp eye had spotted something in one of the cabinets in the art classroom that Liang had overlooked. Beneath a needle-like implement sat a white board, a thin rectangle with writing on it. A charm. If he remembered correctly, there had been similar charms around the temple where he'd grown up. It was Keiko's opinion that the charm might counteract the ones on the bathroom door, and Liang, knowing that if done correctly such things indeed had the potential for great power, had agreed to retrieve it from the cabinet. The door was locked, but unlike the front door, this one could be broken or forced. They just needed something to help them cause a little extra damage. Some of the works of art around the room would have been enough to do the trick - the room still held works from when the room was in use. Children's paintings on the easels, clay and papier-mâché models and chalk doodles stacked in the corner. Some of these items were perfectly innocent creations made by children of the past, including the odd picture or piece that looked very phallic but was undoubtedly just a clumsy drawing of a fruit bowl or animal. Other pieces matched the dark atmosphere of the school. A painting of a person hanging by their neck. A piece of paper with a red scribble and the caption 'man went splat'. A model of a child's hand with what was undeniably blood staining the fingers. Depictions of pain and fear, some in far too much detail to be the work of a child. In the end, Liang had picked up one of the clay models, judging by the scoring a cactus, and used it to break the glass of the cabinet. Taking care not to cut himself, he lifted the charm from its place. There was a genuine power within it, he could feel it.

Which was why they'd chosen to return to the bathroom, charm in hand. No discussion, but no certainty. Liang carefully laid the charm before the doors before stepping back, one arm held out to the side to keep Keiko away from any potential danger ahead of them. At first, it seemed as if nothing was happening, and then he felt the heat. It came off the charm in waves, banishing the icy cold of the abandoned school. It quickly got warm enough that the two of them began to sweat. When the first of the warding spells on the door caught fire, Liang pulled Keiko back a few more steps and held a hand up for some degree of protection. By the time all the spells were alight, the fire burned too bright to look at.

"The school's gonna burn down!" Keiko squeaked in terror. "We can't get out! We're gonna die, we're gonna-!" She cut off and went into wordless screaming as Liang pulled her back even further, stepping in front of her to block her from the flames. He felt the heat against his back threaten to burn any skin it could find. He dared a glance back, to see how the fire was spreading, and was surprised to see that the fire seemed to not so much as skim the wood of the door. It burned away the paper spells, turning them to ash, and then sputtered out, taking all the heat with it at once.

Slowly, he turned to the door and took Keiko's hand, leading her forward as she, realising the heat was gone, opened her eyes and tried to calm herself down. He didn't look at her, but he could tell she was in tears and very, very afraid. When he reached out to the door, he found the handle was cool, as if it hadn't been exposed to the fire at all. The door slid open now without hesitation, and Liang stepped into the boys' bathroom.

The bathroom was in a better state than those he had seen before, at least. There were about five stalls, as in the girls' bathroom in the main building, but all of them were locked. From the top of the stalls, he could see ropes coming up and leading to some point along the high ceiling. He wasn't sure the ceiling was meant to be that high. A few urinals stood at a low height, blocked and flooded, but not broken. Usable. Between the urinals and the stalls, a young man with purple hair was curled up in foetal position, entire body tense and very, very still. From where he stood, Liang wasn't entirely sure if the young man was still alive or not. He was either petrified in fear in the truest sense of the phrase, or he was freshly deceased and entering a state of rigor mortis.

"Motomu?"

Liang looked to Keiko as she shuffled into the room. Her eyes were fixed on the purple-haired boy on the floor, who looked up in response to his name, his movements stiff and almost unnatural.

"K-...Kei-chan..." The boy, Motomu, got to his feet, and Keiko ran to him, sobbing. The two embraced, and Liang watched them, a smile on his face. At the very least, he could be happy they'd been reunited. He decided to hang back, let them have their moment for now, and tried not to listen to their conversation. They were fairly loud, though, and it was rather awkward.

"I was so scared, big brother!"

"I know. I'm sorry. But it's okay, Kei-chan. I won't leave you again for as long as you live. I won't let the ghosts here hurt you."

"Yui...Yui was-"

"I know. Makishi too. I saw them both. I bet it was that ghost girl holding the scissors. But I saw someone hurt someone else from their own school..." The elder brother took something from his back pocket and held it out behind Keiko's back, shifting his grip to angle the object slightly. "But don't worry. Big brother will take care of everything."

In a moment, Keiko was thrown to the floor, and Motomu pinned, his arm held high over his back. Liang's knee was digging into the boy's spine, keeping him down, and he had a vice-like grip on Motomu's wrist. In the boy's hand was a knife. By the looks of it, it was new, and a professional hunting knife, but had been used and hastily wiped clean. A faint smear of red still stained the surface. From where Liang had been standing, he'd seen, from the corner of his eye, Motomu preparing to plunge the knife into his sister's neck. A quick twist of the wrist, and the boy released the knife, allowing the inmate to kick it across the room.

"B...big brother?" Keiko managed from her place on the floor, staring at the boys in shock, tears forming in her eyes already. Liang's focus, of course, was on her attacker.

"You were going to attack your own sister?!"

Motomu, to his credit, completely ignored him. "Keiko! What's wrong with you? You just went off with a stranger? I get you were scared, but you don't know this guy! He could have hurt you! Look at him, look at this place! Look at what happened to Yui. For all you know, he could have done that."

"Care to explain why you're armed, and why you're turning your weapons on us?"

"Have you seen the corpses, genius?"

Fair point, at least for the first question. "Where did you get the knife from? Why did you attack your sister?"

Motomu twisted in his grip, trying to look him in the eye. "Why did you go to prison?"

The atmosphere seemed to drop even further. The suffocating darkness wrapped around the three of them, and Liang could sense the murderous intent beneath him increase.

"Motomu. We need to work together to find a way out of this place. We can't turn on each other. Every second we're here, we're in extreme danger. We need to know you don't add to that danger. Why did you point the knife at Keiko?"

"You didn't answer my question."

"You've barely answered any of mine."

"We can't get out of here."

"You've given up?"

"Not exactly."

"But you've turned to hurting others."

"You're no saint."

"What is wrong with you?"

Motomu twisted a little, trying to look Liang in the eye. There was something about the look in his eye that seemed very wrong. Something in there was cold, and dark, and tinged with insanity. He dropped his voice low, likely so his sister would not hear his next words. "Let me tell you this much, all you need to know. The spirits here are killing people, and those people are desperate to survive. But they can't. The ghosts will kill them, or they'll suffer some accident, or starve or dehydrate or sicken, or someone else will kill them. Someone like me, or maybe someone like you, right, Mr Criminal? Because I can see it in your face, you're no stranger to the stench of blood and rot, are you? You're not as disturbed as all the poor, innocent kids who come in here and die in some horrible, tragic way. And this place? It can twist your mind, poison your thoughts and make you want to kill. Not me, though, so don't worry.

"I've just always hated those people. Fake smiles. Platitudes. Pretence. Doesn't it all just make you so angry? But there's so many rules out there, rules that fall apart once you're in here. You can do whatever you want. Go crazy. Let loose all those nasty little thoughts and feelings. You don't have to serve your time or repent for anything you did wrong in the past. No prison, no punishment, just the freedom to suffer and cause suffering until your last breath."

Liang inhaled sharply, a thought coming to him during Motomu's words. "Those people you mentioned, the ones who had been killed...Yui and Makishi...did you do something to them?"

"It doesn't matter if you're killed by the ghosts or killed by me. Either way, you die."

#Damn Kizami substitutes #I have so much more planned that this is gonna go to over 20 chapters and I hate it #after they all get together again? God knows #that's all up in the air #shorter chapter because I'm full of rage #and this is hard to write still #I had to delete and rewrite so much my dudes #I'm very tired

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gffa · 6 years

Photo

I DID NOT KNOW I WAS GOING TO KIND OF LOVE THIS ARC AS MUCH AS I DID. It’s one of those where, if you take just pieces of it out of context, it looks like it’s slamming the Jedi, but when you read it with context, I really don’t think it is. The framework this story is being put into is thus: Kirak Infil’a, Jocasta Nu, Ferren Barr, and upcoming Eeth Koth. All Jedi who followed different paths after Order 66. A kyber crystal that showed Darth Vader that another path specifically for him was possible, as he stands there and rejects the idea of it being possible. Ninth Sister tells us all about how he wants to die, but can’t admit it to himself. “Poor sadistic monster, doesn’t know himself at all.” is pretty much the subtitle of this entire comic! Ferren Barr is another example of what Anakin could have done--he didn’t have to remain being a Jedi or even go back to being one and the point is very strongly made Ferren isn’t a Jedi here. He recognizes that he’s falling. He laughs when he shouldn’t, he makes sacrifices a Jedi wouldn’t, he is callous about the hurts he causes in a way the Jedi aren’t, he embraces his pride in a way that a Jedi wouldn’t. It’s clear that all of the trauma and the dark side have bent him under the weight of it and he is not a Jedi anymore and he knows it. And it’s really important just what else this arc tells us about Ferren Barr--he was a Padawan when Order 66 happened, not a Jedi Master. He had not yet Mastered himself or the internal balance to remain strong under the pressure of the dark side and of what his visions were putting on him. He wasn’t finished with his training and the last time we saw a Padawan survive Order 66, he had a hell of a lot of trouble dealing with all the shit in the galaxy, too. Padawans are not as strong as Jedi Masters, they’re not as centered in themselves, they’re still learning. Barr very clearly did not have the finished skills or structure to cope and he knew it. He’s so angry in this comic, he laughs at the wrong times, his eyes are practically glowing red in the flashbacks, Vader senses pride in him. All of these things are exactly what the Jedi warned about letting get their hooks in you, that these are things that lead to embracing the dark side. The comic earlier, when Barr is about to unleash the clones on the Inquisitors, he says, “Once a Jedi, always a Jedi.” and, boy, do we know that’s not true at all. It’s a moment about how the clones won’t know the difference because the chips in their heads will overtake them, but the contrast of that line against the Inquisitors that it’s being applied to is heart of what this arc is about--it’s delivering that line in that moment to show, no, it’s not true. They’re not Jedi anymore and neither is Barr. And he knows it, because he’s the one that delivers the line.

But further more, his visions are right. And they seem to have driven him over the edge more than a little! This reminds me of those quotes from Dave Filoni about how a Jedi’s ability lets them be in the right moment to turn the tide and that’s what struck me about Ferren Barr. For all that he lost himself in it, in a coldly logical way, that’s exactly what he set out to do and ultimately achieved. He wanted to go out being as close to a Jedi as he could--”I might not be a Jedi, but I still beat the Sith.” are his last words. Those ships will be what the Rebellion needs. Those ships will also be what the Resistance needs. He saw all that! He saw all the way to the sequel trilogy! And the weight of that--in combination with the weight of the dark side suffusing the entire galaxy--crushed him into no longer being a Jedi. Even Vader can see that he’s not a Jedi anymore and he’s not exactly the Jedi’s biggest fan. One of the things Star Wars really likes to do is echo and rhyme, especially with Anakin Skywalker, as the central character of the Star Wars Saga. Luke’s story echoes his in many ways (and then sets them up for the contrasts). Rey’s story is another echo of theirs. The Mortis arc is a rhyme of Anakin’s story in miniature. Ezra’s story is all about putting him in a position to face the same choice Anakin did. Of course this comic is all about being figments of the various paths that Anakin could have taken, the choices he could have made. Barr is just the latest in that series, in addition to showing that this is not what the Jedi were.

#anakin skywalker #darth vader #star wars meta #meta #comics #reading comics: dark lord of the sith

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rixxy8173571m3w1p3 · 7 years

Note

Prompt: citadel of Ricks

(a DWC prompt I wasn’t able to get to last week)@ricksanchezdwc

You were warned ahead of time not to panic. He kept you on the line as he stepped through the portal, and you gasped at his appearance. At the sight of the rifle in his arms, you dropped your phone. What the hell?

Every step he took, you backed away, unsure of what was going on. Rick set his rifle down, kneeled, picked up the dropped phone and placed it on the side table. There was a few things he had to explain, but only when you were ready to listen. This was a Guard Rick uniform he was wearing, that much you recognized, but it was a shock to see your kind, lovable scientist wearing anything remotely threatening. His eyes searched you, pleaded, eager to comfort.

When you calmed a little, you reached out to touch his cheek, reassured to find it was him, just him, and not some hallucination. He stayed still, allowing you to pass your hand over his lapels, over the soft fabric of his black shirt, around his badge, and over his leather glove. He slowly placed a hand on your shoulder, gauging your reactions as he moved closer. Your meds sometimes made you jumpy, and when this happened, Rick had to be extra careful with his surprises. He touched your forehead with his, apologizing for what he was about to put you through.

For a while you two stood like this, just breathing, until you were sure that you were calm enough to listen.

Being part of the Citadel Militia, there were certain perks that came with the job. Of course, in order to take advantage of those perks, he had to wear the assigned uniform, and just….wow.You saw why he didn’t wear it, with the tightness of the pants, and the authoritative look it gave him, it was like watching him play dress up. Yet, he stood a little straighter, almost taller, but the idea of him carrying weapons seemed out of character. Honestly, you were unsure, afraid, and wondered if visiting the Citadel with him was even a good idea, but as he put it, the time had come.

You had become an integral part of his life, and he considered you as family. There wasn’t anyone else, and because he didn’t have a Morty anymore, he wanted you to be there when he filled out the paperwork as to why he wasn’t going to apply to get a new one. He didn’t want to put it off anymore. It was time to move on, and that involved doing a few things he didn’t like.

Rick gestured at his uniform, how its fabrics felt foreign, the weight of his gear was unpleasant, being a reminder of his days in training. Being a Rick, a lot of things came naturally, but there were learned skills like how to use weapons, repairs, and what to do if you’re out of booze. He almost never wore the uniform, except for certain formal events, or when he had to blend in. He hated the militaristic side of his occupation, and had only joined because he wanted to be useful, to be able to see the universe, and to make new friends.

As he shifted and moved, his boots squeaked.

There was so much he had to tell, so much he’d refrained from telling you in fear that you wouldn’t like him anymore. You led him to the couch, gave him extra pillows so that he may recline comfortably. He trembled beneath your touch, scared of how you’d see him if he really told you. Whatever had not been said already, you didn’t need to know. If he cared to share information with you, then you would accept.

No matter what, you still loved him, and that wouldn’t change. So he told you everything there was to know, about the Citadel, it’s citizens and what could be expected. You weren’t sure you could retain it all, but you listened, asked questions when necessary, and reassured him. He wasn't…..he wasn’t a very good Rick, he was an anomaly, the fluke. Yet, according to his test results, he was still classified as a Rick, unlike Slow Rick who was classified as a Morty.

There were things he had done that he wasn’t proud of, but never out of anger, to injure, or purposely. He was a Rick after all, and in the pursuit of knowledge, came the dangers involving certain truths. By the end of his information dump, he studied you, wanting to know how you felt about it. You still cared for him, that much had not changed, you still loved him, and as always he was yours. Though, there were some truths which would take some time to completely understand.

That much, he could accept.__________You two portaled into the Citadel, where you were met by a group of guard Rick’s. Zeta-7 was a law abiding Rick, and followed protocol by making sure he had the proper documentation to show you had the right to be there. Unlike other times, his face was neutral, and his voice carried no emotion.

Perhaps the uniform gave him an invisible confidence, but you didn’t like the coldness, the similarities you spotted amongst the Rick-kind. Amongst themselves, the other guards joked, giving you lecherous looks, and all you could do was reach out, and hold onto Zeta-7s clenched, gloved hand. At your touch, there was another slight change in him, as the beginnings of a smile showed at the corners of his mouth. You glared at the other Ricks, making them laugh harder. They didn’t understand how a sassy girl like you ended up with a Doofus of a Rick like him.

Once they were satisfied with themselves, and the documents, they stepped aside, still laughing their heads off as you two got into his work vehicle.

It looked like a futuristic police cruiser, it even said Police on its side doors. You knew Rick had an important job, but nothing like this. He was more of an investigator, almost like a detective, though on his contract, it didn’t necessarily specify; he just did, what he was told to do. Yet, even so, he did have the right to use corporate vehicles, use of a freeze ray, rifle gun, and other odd perks, like discounts at participating restaurants.

He understood your shock, he didn’t care for the uniform either, but it was more preferable to drive then to attract attention on public transportation, or deal with mean taxi drivers. No, you never would have pictured him in a place like this, working here in a bustling Metropolis, where there were thousands of Rick’s and Morty’s, the occasional Summer, and work with such horrible monsters that looked just like him. He placed the car in autopilot for a moment, and explained a few things which might come up. Damn, now that your were getting used to this look, you thought he really did look good, especially when he was trying to stand his ground, and take charge. You pulled him down by the collar, and gave him a few sweet kisses.

It was going to be a long day, and he was going to need all the love he could get.________________The Department of Morty Reassignment, Adoption, and Registration wasn’t much more than a glorified Daycare. In fact, the Morty Daycare was only down the block. And while you found it atrocious, the behavior all the Ricks who passed your way appalling, you were happy to see they treated the Mortys in their care fairly well. They provided entertainment, counseling, and all that a teenage boy could possibly need.

Down the hall, Zeta-7 stopped, and watched a group of Morty’s play video games through a two way mirror. It was used by the Ricks who preferred to hand pick their own Morty. In another life, he was supposed to be the father to a woman named Beth, grandfather to a pair of lovely grandchildren, Morty and Summer. Wistful, he told you a little about his assigned Morty, how he really wasn’t that different from other Mortys, but had a larger than life personality.

Eric Stoltz Mask Morty, as the name implied, came from a dimension where everyone was Eric Stoltz Mask people, but was one of the rare few with actual Craniodiaphyseal dysplasia. Having an extremely rare autosomal recessive bone disorder that caused calcium to build up in the skull, disfiguring the facial features and reducing life expectancy, Zeta-7 set out to give him a good life. They went on all sorts of adventures, sometimes they stayed at home, but they always had fun. To cope with his condition and to help others cope with him, Morty in his early years had developed a knack of making friends, with a happy-go-lucky attitude.

Morty enjoyed as close to a normal life as a boy afflicted with a horrible disease could, and his positive attitude won him many friends. Despite poor eyesight, failing hearing, and painful headaches, he accomplished almost everything a boy of his age would be expected to accomplish. He got B’s and C’s, he played video games, and dated his life long crush Jessica. He was a good kid, and he suited Rick, and they never had any problems with one another. Yet, he died, quite unexpectedly one winter day.

He loved his Morty, and there was no replacing him, but there had been times he was tempted to take up the Councils offer to be assigned a new one. No, no, no, he couldn’t, and he wouldn’t, which was why he wanted to file the paperwork. Zeta-7 clutched his chest, and groaned in agony as he continued. You didn’t say anything, you just listened, and held him. There were Ricks who passed you two, and they nodded in understanding.

If there was a universal truth, it was that Ricks had irrational attachments.

When he calmed, you two headed to the main office._____________It was done, but Rick was still unhappy. The head of the Morty department had been unreasonable, and said many hurtful things, but Zeta-7 had a way with words, and calmly explained everything. Now, all that was left was to go home. If this was normal for Rick-kind, and yours was one of the few exceptions, then you didn’t like this place or the people in it. However, seeing as this was your first visit to the Citadel, he wanted to show you a few places.

Like any other country, place, or society, there were good, and bad people. And while it seemed there was no goodness here, there was. If he said there were, then it had to be true. You smiled, and told him you’d go wherever he would take you. He thought for a moment, then took out his wallet to reveal a buy one get one free coupon.

With your hand in his, you two decided that the first thing you would do is to go get some ice cream.

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proud-band-trash · 6 years

Text

It all happened at 11:11

“DAMMIT! I’M TRYING NOT TO BE BIASED BUT IT’S HARD WHEN I’M GETTING FUCKED IN DETAIL ON TOP OF A BATHROOM COUNTER!” Awsten screamed at Travis.

“Look over at Geoff’s face. He’s bright fucking red just from reading this. It’s kinda cute, actually.” Travis tried to distract the younger boy.

And Travis was right. Geoff was blushing like crazy, just keeping his mouth shut. Awsten looks Geoff straight in the eye to give his rating.

“I give it a 5. I got a boner from it.” Awsten cocked a smile, watching Geoff turn redder. Travis had to glance at Awsten’s crotch.

“Liar!” Travis declared. “And Geoff, what do you rate this?”

Geoff had to think for a second. “Well, it was very detailed and had good grammar-“

“THAT’S MY THING! USING GRAMMAR AS A MEANS TO RATE FANFICS!” Awsten cut him off. Geoff began to speak again.

“Shut the fuck up Awsten! Anyway, I give it a 3. It was beautifully written, but I could never act like that in real life.”

“TAKE YOUR BELT OFF AND SHUT ME UP!” Awsten yelled at the older boy, turning his face redder than ever before.

“That’s why it’s called fiction. Anyhow, now that we have our comments and ratings out of the way, would you like to say good night to all of our listeners Geoff?” Travis questioned, calmest of them all. Geoff nodded.

“Um, good night,” Geoff smirked in Awsten’s way as he said that.

“FUCK YOU MAN! Both of you need to fucking stop with that!” Awsten screamed.

“What else are we gonna say?” Travis glared at Awsten as he spoke. “Go on, Geoff.”

“Sleep tight, don’t let the Awsten bite. OW!” Geoff yelled as Awsten sneaked up next to Geoff and actually bit his arm, and sucking it while Travis laughing hysterically.

“You missed,” Travis told the purple haired boy, and tapped the side of the base of his neck. Geoff got the reference and blushed again. Awsten didn’t see it though, but he ended up taking his mouth off of the newly formed hickey on Geoff’s arm. Geoff looked at the mark, a little fear on his face from it. Awsten reached up to Geoff’s mic and grabbed it.

“GOOD NIGHT Y’ALL. I’M ENDING THIS MESS OF AN EPISODE RIGHT HERE, RIGHT NOW.” Awsten yelled into the mic and slammed his hand down to switch it off. Travis helped stash away the mics in Awsten’s room as Geoff sprawled out on Awsten’s bed. It didn’t take long for Awsten and Travis to shove the mics in the corner.

“Get out,” Awsten commanded once the mics were away, and the other 2 boys walked out of the house. Travis held the front door open for Geoff, Geoff murmuring a “thank you” to him. They crossed the short distance between the driveway and the door, reaching their cars.

“Good night! Take care Geoff!”

“Thanks Travis, you too!” Geoff waved as he hopped in his car. He pushed and turned the key, the ignition starting up and then… silence and darkness. Geoff grabbed his phone out of his pocket, flicking on the flashlight in the dark car, and turned the key again. No response.

“God dammit!” He shouted at the car. It stayed silent. He checked the time. 10:50 pm. There was no way any parts shop was open at this hour, and Travis had already left. He jumped out of the slightly cooler car and ran up to Awsten’s door, giving it a knock. Awsten took his time answering it.

“What do you want?” Awsten asked, slightly annoyed with a bag of popcorn in his hands.

“Can I stay at your place, just for tonight? My car won’t start and every parts shop is closed right now.” Geoff pleaded. Awsten pondered the request for a second, then stepped to the side of the door, letting Geoff in.

“Thank you so much Awsten,” Geoff pulled the smaller one in for a hug while he thanked him. Awsten didn’t hug back and just waited for Geoff to release him. The blue haired boy, once released, walked over to the couch to grab the remote to shut off the tv. He then walked Geoff up to his room.

Awsten didn’t have a guest room in his house, so he decided he’d just sleep next to Geoff. It was a king sized bed after all. “Here, just sleep next to me. I don’t have a guest room and the bed is big enough.” Geoff nods at Awsten’s command, kicking off his shoes, taking off his jeans and lying on the bed. Awsten joins him after also kicking off his shoes, and Geoff turns around to turn off the light.

Awsten passed out in seconds, while Geoff couldn’t stop thinking about his car. What was even wrong with it? Could he fix it himself or did he need a mechanic to fix it? Would he need to buy a new car? Hours passed as Geoff got lost in his thoughts. He looked over at Awsten, peacefully asleep, and wished he could be asleep too. Geoff wrapped his arms around the smaller boy and pressed his body against Awsten’s back, resting his head against Awsten’s shoulder. He wasn’t sure if Awsten noticed, but he did know Awsten was still asleep. Once he was positioned, Geoff realized he’s never been as comfortable in his entire life as he was right now. Him and Awsten’s bodies fit perfectly together, and as he drifted off to sleep, he wondered if Awsten’s lips against his would be a perfect fit too.

For a few hours, there was nothing but peaceful rest. Awsten was calm in Geoff’s arms, feeling safe and protected and relaxed, and Geoff loved the feeling of the other boy in his arms, reminding him that he could get through whatever problem, no matter how big or small, with the other boy, calming him down. The night would’ve been perfect, if the boys weren’t suddenly awoken by a strange noise.

Awsten heard it first, and tensed up. “Geoff,” he wiggles his way toward Geoff and gently shook him, “Geoff! Wake up!”

Geoff blinked a couple times, eyes focusing on the purple haired boy. He blushed as he realized he was still in his arms. Awsten had a terrified look on his face, wrapping his arms around Geoff’s and clinging around the taller boy, burying his face in his chest. Before he could explain, they heard a creek. Geoff sat up at the noise, and reached for his phone on the nightstand to turn on the flashlight, Awsten still clinging to him. Geoff shone the light around the room, stopping at the doorway, seeing a shoulder approach it. More of its body became visible, and the figure came towards the light, Geoff feeling Awsten hold onto him tighter.

The figure was a light grey color, with almost translucent skin, and walked on all fours toward them, looking up at the two with small black eyes. Its head was huge, and had a thin body that looked too weak to support it. Its limbs were long and thin, and it stood up on 2 feet. While paralyzed in fear watching the first figure, some more figures walked into the room, looking slightly thicker than the other one. A light shone through their windows as 4 of the thicker figures surrounded the bed. Geoff was even getting a little scared too, holding on to Awsten tighter. Awsten could hear the other boy’s heart pound in fear as the strange creatures came closer to them. But before they could fight back, the aliens released a gas that made humans instantly sleepy, and the boys passed out in each other’s arms again. Thankfully, the aliens didn’t bother to separate them. Geoff’s last memory before falling to sleep was trying to kick one of the creatures off the bed while holding a sleepy Awsten in his arms, against his chest.

A few hours later, Awsten wakes up and looks around the ship he was taken on. Almost all of it looked like the set of a sci-fi movie. They were trapped in laser bars, being watched by more humanoid-looking beings with white lab coats and tablets. Even those existed in futuristic societies. Geoff was still asleep.

“Geoff! Wake the fuck up!” Awsten yelled. Awsten couldn’t see it, but the aliens heard and scribbled down some notes about what Awsten just did. Actually, they’re been scribbling down the boys’ every movement, but not much happened until now. Geoff blinked a couple times, feeling very cold, and sat up, shivering a little. Awsten saw it and took Geoff’s hands in his to warm them up as Geoff scanned the room.

Brrrr-ing!

Some bell must’ve gone off. The aliens immediately left the room once they heard it, making Geoff and Awsten feel much safer.

“We gotta get out! But how?” Awsten questioned Geoff. Geoff was a very good problem solver. He’d know what to do. A clank was heard as one of the aliens left the room. The item that they dropped looked very familiar. It looked like a portal gun from Rick and Morty. An idea popped in Geoff’s head.

“Do you trust me?” Geoff asked before he was gonna tell the other boy how they could get out. To Awsten however, it seemed like a very random question.

“Of course. Why?”

“Because you might think this is dumb, but it’s probably one of our only ways out. I need you to stick your hand through the bars to grab that long magnet right there,” Geoff spoke quickly. Awsten didn’t think it was dumb at all and easily grabbed the magnet. “Thank you,” Geoff spoke again. He extended the magnet towards the gun. It stuck, and he slid it right into the cage, an alien chasing after it as he did so. He may have had a pretty odd face, but he could tell that the alien was angry. And could speak English.

“I don’t have the clearance to unlock you, but if you give me back my portal gun I’ll get you out somehow.” The alien offered, and the boys thought about it for a minute.

“Nah,” Awsten replied, “We don’t have cool shit like this on Earth so we gotta fuck with it here.” Geoff stood up to press a button on the gun, pointing it towards the floor. He grabbed Awsten by the waist, leaning over the portal.

“JUMP!” Geoff commanded, and the two boys held onto each other as they closed their eyes and jumped into the portal, getting sent wherever it led. Somehow, the dimension they landed in was not very scary at all. They landed right in front of Awsten’s house. It looked abandoned, so it was possible they got the correct dimension on the first try. Awsten turned to high-five Geoff, but caught something before he did, eyes widening in fear. Geoff saw Awsten’s expression, and cautiously turned around.

A voice popped in both of their heads suddenly. “You’re not from this dimension.” The two boys stared at it in fear. It was the alien who they stole the portal gun from. And a few of his friends. And they did not look happy.

Geoff looked down at the portal gun in his hand, and immediately noticed a small screen. In the corner of it, there was a battery icon. And it appeared to be running low. Him and Awsten may not have noticed it originally, but now they did. They had to run if they wanted to live.

They headed downtown this dimension, hoping that someone would see them getting attacked and help. It was almost like no one could see what was going on. Even when Awsten collapsed, wheezing for air. Geoff had to stop for him, tearing up a little at the sight. He didn’t have much time to react, so he scooped up the purple haired boy and swung him over his shoulders holding him up and continuing to run. There wasn’t anywhere to hide in sight, and Geoff knew even with the insane amount of adrenaline running through his system, he couldn’t run for much longer. The aliens were already starting to catch up. He looked over to his right, finding his solution.

He ran through the yard of some random house. He didn’t think the owners were home, and didn’t care if they were either. Awsten had regained his breath and was able to readjust himself onto Geoff’s back, legs tightly wrapped around his waist and hands clinging onto the taller boy’s shoulders, freeing up Geoff’s hands.

Geoff grabbed the top of the fence and jumped over it. It was harder to do it with Awsten on his back, but he managed to do it without the aliens spotting them first. Awsten climbed off Geoff’s back and they remained on all fours, crawling into the nearby bush to hide in until the aliens passed. It was hard for Geoff to do, not wanting to wreck the new fancy alien technology, but he grabbed a nearby rock and smashed the screen of the portal gun, wrecking the internals of the portal gun so it can’t be tracked. He dropped the gun and turned back to Awsten, who was shivering a little. He wasn’t sure if he was shaking out of fear or because he was cold, but the brunette figured a hug would help either.

Geoff wrapped his arms around Awsten, holding the smaller boy tight while Awsten shut his eyes. Geoff kept his wide open, looking and listening around for aliens. They were tired of hiding. Tired of running. Until they heard some screaming.

“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOIN-“ Awsten’s scream was cut off with a gushing noise. But Awsten was right there, in Geoff’s arms, perfectly still and most importantly, not screaming.

Another scream was heard, this time by Geoff. A few punching noises were heard, and another scream, cut off by silence and a gunshot. But Geoff and Awsten were still sitting in the bush, quiet and very much alive. A whoosh opening a portal was heard, and something was thrown into another dimension. They heard the aliens conversing again.

“We can’t ask where the gun is now that they’re dead!” One alien argued.

“It’s not even worth looking for anymore. They’re not alive and I’m sick of search. Let’s go home.”

“Fine. We’re coming back later though.” The third alien commanded

“We’re not. You can if you want.” The first alien who spoke commanded. Another whoosh was heard, and all was quiet. Geoff let go of Awsten.

Awsten was still trembling when Geoff let go, so Geoff reached over to Awsten’s forehead and gave it a little peck before getting up. Geoff quietly began to stand up and climb through the bush. Once he was out, he peered over the fence. The coast was clear, and the aliens were gone. Geoff went back into the bush, scooping up a still shaking Awsten bridal style. Awsten rested his head against Geoff’s chest and held onto his neck.

Now that the boys are no longer in danger, they took the long way back to their house. Geoff carried Awsten the entire way back.

They reached the house, but neither of them had a key. Luckily, Awsten kept a spare hidden in a fake rock. He just had to hope his alternative self also did that too. Since he was so forgetful, he probably did. He spotted the rock and opened it up to reveal the key. He gave it to Geoff to unlock while he put the rock back, and opened the door for both boys.

Immediately, they climbed back up to the bedroom and kicked off their shoes. Geoff walked over and shut the blinds, darkening the room. Awsten dug something out of his pocket and placed it in the drawer of his nightstand.

“What’s that?” Geoff asked, pointing to the drawer. Awsten knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Well, when you got out of the bush, I put the smashed portal gun in my pocket. I wanted to look at it later, maybe see if we can find someone who can fix it.” Awsten calmly replied. Geoff nodded and jumped on the bed, lying on his side and patted the spot next to him. Awsten joined him, lying in Geoff’s arms, snuggled into his chest. The purple haired boy pulled up the covered on both boys. They were exhausted, but even after a couple hours, they still couldn’t sleep. Geoff glanced over to the clock. It read 11:11 am. He then turned his head into an awkward position to see if Awsten was also having trouble sleeping. Awsten’s bicolored eyes were wide open.

“Awsten,” Geoff said softly, Awsten turning around to face Geoff, his head in his chest and eyes looking up at Geoff’s face. Geoff had to grin at just how damn cute that was. “What- what are we now? We’ve experienced a lot of gay moments together when we were abducted, but I enjoyed all of them.” Geoff couldn’t bring himself to look at Awsten for his last sentence. As he spoke, his face grew redder. “Originally, I had felt something, like romantic towards you.” Awsten listened intently, hiding his face in Geoff’s chest, listening to the brunette’s rapid heartbeat. Geoff continued. “I tried to push those feelings away, say that they would go, but they’re only got gotten… stronger.” The taller boy clung to Awsten a little tighter to finish his little speech.

“I- I love you, I think.”

Awsten couldn’t breathe because Geoff was holding him so tight, but he didn’t wiggle away for more room. In fact, Awsten wanted to get closer. He snuggled up to the older boy, fatally close to falling asleep, and spoke up before passing out.

“I love you too.”

#waterparks #Awsten knight #Geoff Wigington #fluff #very very cute #garunteed awww #awww #gawsten #gawsten fluff #aliens #alien abduction #dimension hopping #idobi radio #awsten and travis’ slumber party

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